


Start of Something Good

by Batsutousai



Series: Make a Brand New End [7]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canonical Character Death, Force-Sensitive Clones (Star Wars), Fuck The Kaminoans, Gen, Jango Fett Deserved Better, Jedi Families, Mace Windu Appreciation Day, Mentioned Child Experimentation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives, Time Travel Fix-It, We Stan Mace Windu In This House, the clones deserved better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24335881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: When Feemor warned the Council that a jedi had died, he couldn't have known what they would uncover. (Even if he kind of had.)
Relationships: Feemor (Star Wars) & Mace Windu, Jango Fett & Mace Windu, Mace Windu & Jedi Council, Mace Windu & Other(s)
Series: Make a Brand New End [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701196
Comments: 178
Kudos: 1093





	1. I Know It's Gonna Take Some Time

**Author's Note:**

> Go on, ask me how long I debated how to go about bringing the clones into this AU.
> 
> So, it's not really clear how much most jedi know about the origins of the clones, because everything we _know_ the jedi know, actually is learnt by members of the Council or Anakin. Given they fall pretty much immediately into the war, I went with the assumption that not every jedi knows everything. So, for Feemor's part, he knew they were created on Kamino, he probably knows who the template was, and he can do the maths to figure out this is about the time they were ordered. But _who_ did the ordering and the chances that Dooku might have stuck his nose in? Yeah, not so much.
> 
> The timeline is a little wonky here, I think. Uhm, according to _The Clone Wars_ , Sifo-Dyas was on a mission from Valorum when he was killed, but general consensus I'm seeing otherwise has Dooku not leaving the Order (and, therefore, starting his Fall) until after Qui-Gon's death on Naboo. *handwaves everything* Bear with me, I guess?
> 
> One last note, promise: Because Feemor is very much Coruscant-bound for the foreseeable future, it seemed silly to write from his PoV, so I'm picking on Mace this time. Which, related, posting the first chapter for Mace Windu Appreciation Day.

The chirping of his comm woke him, and Mace groaned as he stumbled out of bed and to the wall console in the main room. "Windu," he answered when he hit the accept button.

There was no visual, and as soon as the caller spoke, Mace understood why: _"I apologise for the early hour, Master Windu,"_ Feemor said, an edge to his voice. _"Unfortunately, this is something of an emergency."_

Mace sighed and rubbed at his forehead; even _talking_ to the time traveller caused little shatterpoints to form in the air around him, though there were far fewer than if he could have seen the man. "Promising," slipped from him before he could stop it, his brain-to-mouth filter hampered by the lack of caffeine. "What's the emergency?"

_"A jedi just died."_

Mace stiffened, very much awake, now.

_"I can't tell for certain whom—they weren't anyone close to me—but it was about twenty minutes ago. Not on Coruscant, or anywhere in the core, I would guess. Further out, mid or outer rim."_

"Are you certain?" Mace had to ask, even as a chill crawled up his spine; that was...far more specific than Mace had ever heard someone pinpoint the death of a jedi at a distance. Hells, the common belief was that you couldn't even _feel_ the death of a jedi they weren't bonded to at that distance.

_"About the death? Absolutely,"_ Feemor replied, and he sounded tired. _"It's very distinct, and I've felt it...more times than I should like to recall."_

A _war_ , Feemor had said. A war he'd lost almost his entire lineage to.

Somehow, it hadn't occurred to Mace what that might mean for the numbers of the rest of the Order. (Or, it had, but he desperately hadn't wanted to think about that too much.)

_"About the distance? It's a lot of conjecture based on correlating the feeling with reports of deaths. This is hardly an exact science."_

Exact science, no, but it was something that you would need a _lot_ of data to make even passingly accurate.

Not for the first time, thinking about the future the elder master had lived made him simultaneously ill, and wishing there was a cushy mission to a peaceful, jedi-friendly planet they could send him on for a few months. (And not just because then he wouldn't be constantly dropping _more_ problems in the Council's lap; they were still debating how to handle their new chancellor answering to the sith, not to mention the potential for a galaxy-wide war, and Mace didn't think they would be reaching a consensus about how best to tackle either of those issues at _least_ until they had more exact intel about whether or not Palpatine was already answering to the sith, and if there was a way to save him or stop the potential war from happening.)

Mace sighed and nodded, then remembered there was no visual, because Feemor was honestly doing his best to keep from making the headache his current existence caused Mace from getting any worse. (If only the man's former master could follow his lead.) "I'll inform the Council and we'll look into it, check in with all of the jedi out in the field."

_"Good, thank you. I am..."_ He sighed. _"I need to get Wangui up and drop her on Qui-Gon's doorstep soon."_

Right. "Good luck with Palpatine," Mace offered.

Feemor's laugh sounded a little brittle, and Mace had a sinking feeling that the man had got far less sleep than he should have before his first day serving as their new chancellor's advisor. _"Thanks."_ And then the connection ended.

Mace sighed and let himself rub at his headache for another minute or two, then typed out a message to the whole Council that they needed to check in with all of the jedi that were on missions out past the expansion region.

By the time he'd had enough tea to feel human and got dressed, he had a handful of responses from other members of the Council, some asking why, but all of them already working through those jedi on distant missions they had a more immediate way of reaching than the usual Council channels.

Mace ignored the questions—that could wait until they were all together—and set about checking in with those jedi he could more easily contact, noting down the two he couldn't reach immediately.

By the time they met up in the Council Chambers, they had only three names that were on missions out past the expansion region who no one had managed to get an answer from: Master Aur'em Heartlighter, Knight M'reib Chapos, and Master Sifo-Dyas.

"Why are we doing this, Master?" Depa asked as Yarael and Even, the last to arrive, made their ways to their seats.

Mace sighed. "Feemor comm'd me this morning; he felt a jedi die."

"Then, why were we looking out so far?" Even asked, frowning. "I don't deny that the death of a jedi is cause for concern–"

"Felt the death, did you?" Yoda interrupted, something sharp in his voice, and Mace wasn't the only one to shoot him a startled look. "Felt it _I_ did not. In the core this death was not."

Mace inclined his head. "Feemor was the one who said they were most likely in the mid or outer rim."

"That's a hell of a range," Saesee murmured, expression troubled.

"Yes, and he's had a _lot_ of practise," Mace added.

Almost the entire Council flinched, in the Force if not physically; Mace evidently wasn't the only one who tried not to think about what fighting a galaxy-wide war meant for their numbers.

Yoda sighed and tapped on the arm controls of his chair, bringing up the three missing jedi on the projector in the middle of the room. "Have three names we do. Gone to Felucia Master Sifo-Dyas has, mediating a revolution he is; on Ord Mantell Knight Chapos is, collecting a youngling she is; and in Hutt space Master Heartlighter is, tracking a slaver ring she is."

"We may be able to discount Heartlighter," Mace mused. "Feemor suggested he would know if it had been someone close to him, and I believe she's still on good terms with Knight Ursu." Ursu and Heartlighter, so far as he knew, had dissolved their training bond, as was traditional, but they had taken missions together since then, and Mace wouldn't be surprised to discover they had formed a more equal pair bond, given the nature of their duties as a shadow (Ursu) and an investigator (Heartlighter).

"Ask Knight Ursu we can," Yaddle pointed out, tapping at her own chair controls, and Mace suspected she was seeing to that.

"It would certainly be faster to ask her former padawan than trying to track her down ourselves," Oppo mused. "Aur'em has always been exceptional at covering her tracks."

"If she isn't certain about her status, Knight Ursu may be the best choice to send after her former master," Ki-Adi pointed out. "How difficult will it be to remove her from her current mission?"

"Difficult," Oppo replied, "but doable."

"Then we'll send Knight Ursu to check on Aur'em, if she can't verify her former master's status," Mace announced. "What of Knight Chapos? Do we have any jedi near Ord Mantell that can verify her status?" Unlike Heartlighter, Chapos didn't have a surviving master or padawan who might retain some sort of bond that could be used to reach out to her.

"Gorse Pottem is leading an AgriCorps team on Genassa," Depa said, looking up from her datapad. "Last I heard, they were wrapping up."

"Is this really something we want to send a Corps team on?" Even asked.

Depa made that face that Mace knew meant a rant was imminent, and he sighed. "That was not a criticism against your friend, Depa," he interrupted, and she ducked her head back towards her datapad a hint of chagrin in her Force presence.

"The Corps team may be our best option," Plo commented, looking through his own datapad. "The next closest jedi we can afford to divert is Knight Oabb and his padawan, on Ansion."

Oabb, Mace knew, was an excellent duellist, but often came off a little too rough to serve as an ideal first or second meeting with a potential initiate's parents. His padawan, Kri Hornings, was only just old enough to be allowed out on missions with the peacekeeper, and sending them into a situation that may involve a dead jedi knight and a potential initiate that may be in danger was...an uncomfortable idea.

"Trust in the Corps we should," Yoda declared.

Mace nodded to Depa, and she started typing out a message to Gorse. "And Sifo-Dyas? We diverted him to Felucia because there was no one else in that sector."

"Do we even know why he was out that far?" Even asked, frowning down at something on his datapad. "He wasn't slated for any missions."

Mace pulled up Sifo-Dyas' file himself, checking his mission logs. Even was right, he hadn't had a mission since before he'd been removed from the Council, though he'd certainly logged his share of travel hours.

"Have a mystery, we do," Yoda mused. "Send a Councillor, should we?"

"I volunteer," Mace said before anyone else could, and someone stifled a snicker.

"Hoping to avoid Master Feemor?" Adi guessed, a teasing glint in her eyes.

Mace frowned at her. "Maybe."

Yoda eyed him for a moment, then nodded. "Go to Felucia you will."

Mace nodded and tapped to exit out of Sifo-Dyas' file, only for a 'file locked' page to pop up as he touched the wrong part of the screen. "Or not," he murmured, and slid the warning screen to the holoprojector in the centre of the room.

Surprise flickered around the room.

"The Office of the Supreme Chancellor," Oppo read off of his own datapad.

"Palpatine?" Depa asked uncertainly.

"No, this looks like an older lock order," Ki-Adi said, zooming in on the file on the projector, showing the date in tiny script at the bottom corner.

"Go to Valorum Adi will," Yoda decided. "If our deceased jedi Sifo-Dyas is, delay assistance on Felucia we cannot."

They all nodded. "I'll leave as soon as we've got through the morning's business," Mace said, motioning for the files over the projector to clear, so they could move on.

BREAK

The trip to Felucia was not a quick one, despite the Perlemian Trade Route passing practically within spitting distance of the system, and Mace was actually grateful that his comm lit up with a communication from the Temple as soon as he dropped back into realspace outside Lianna. "Adi, what have you got for me?" he asked as soon as her image cleared enough to be recognisable.

_"We've got word back that both Knight Chapos and Master Heartlighter are alive and still safely working through their missions; Sifo-Dyas is almost certainly our dead jedi."_

Well, it was a relief to know this trip wasn't for nothing, at least.

_"However, it may turn out you're in the wrong place,"_ she continued. _"Finis told me he'd sent Sifo-Dyas and his aid, Silman, to Oba Diah to resolve a dispute among the Pykes."_

"That's troubling," Mace murmured. "I wish Valorum had _told us_ so we'd known not to take Sifo-Dyas off his mission."

Adi sighed. _"Unfortunately, he was trying to keep it mum so as to keep from panicking Coruscant's underbelly. It's possible he thought Sifo-Dyas would have informed the Council before he left..."_

"But he was barely on speaking terms with us _before_ we kicked him off the Council," Mace finished with a sigh. "Yes. Now I need to determine my priorities here: Do I continue to Felucia and see to the state of things there, or do I go on to Oba Diah?"

Adi glanced to the side for a moment, a murmur of voices coming through the audio, too distant to be distinct, then nodded and looked back to Mace. _"Based on when we confirmed the new orders with Sifo-Dyas and when Feemor sensed his death, it's unlikely he made it to Felucia. We're re-routing someone to take over that mess now."_

Mace nodded and started inputting his new destination into the nav computer. "Then I'm headed to Oba Diah. I'll comm as soon as I know something."

_"May the Force be with you, Mace."_

Mace sighed. "May the Force be with us all," he muttered, and ended the call so he could mourn another forty hours of travel in private.

BREAK

Almost as soon as he hit realspace in the Kessel system, his comm lit up with a distress call being sent over a jedi-specific frequency, one the Pykes likely wouldn't know to check. "Good call," he muttered to Adi and the rest of the Council as he turned his ship towards the moon the distress call was coming from. He tried to hail on the same frequency—Sifo-Dyas was almost certainly dead, but they had no way of knowing whether or not the aide had survived—but got no response.

The moon was...not particularly welcoming, and Mace grimaced to himself as he set his ship down as close to where the distress call was coming from as he could, then hunted through the all-weather kit to find the necessary protective gear to go out into the sandstorm. He wished he could just wait out the storm, but he didn't know how long it would last, nor did he know the status of the aide; if there was even the slightest chance he could save the man by taking a little risk, he had to do it.

The shuttle, when Mace stumbled across it, was empty of all signs of life, though smears of blood were visible under already-accumulating piles of sand that had blown in through the cracked viewport. So, too, was Sifo-Dyas' lightsabre, forgotten against a console.

They had been here, then, when the ship crashed. Or was shot down. And then either someone had come in and pulled them out, or they'd made what seemed to him a poor choice (especially without Sifo-Dyas' lightsabre) to travel out into the moon's wilderness, in which case, he was unlikely to find either of them until the storm cleared.

Frowning and clipping the abandoned lightsabre to his belt, next to his own, Mace continued to the controls, tapping hopefully for any signs of power.

A couple of consoles flickered unhappily, and Mace yanked a drive out of one of his belt pouches, plugging it in and tapping through to download as much information from the damaged shuttle as he could. Then, while that worked, he went hunting for any personal data devices that might have survived the crash.

He came up with a datapad that was cracked at one corner, which turned on to a Senate login screen—almost certainly the aide's—and an incomplete personal holocron, both of which he slipped into pouches on his belt for later consideration.

He retrieved the drive, made one last circuit of the shuttle, then pulled his protective gear back into place and once again braved the storm.

Once back on his own ship, he input the commands to break atmosphere and plugged in the drive to see what he'd found. Most of the information was basic travel data, series of coordinates showing where the shuttle had been since the last wipe. There wasn't anything on the reason for the crash, nor any personal notes of any sort, and Mace sat back in his chair with a sigh, feeling defeated.

He was just reaching forward to start a call to the Council, when an incoming hail came through. _"Unidentified Republic shuttle, you are in Pyke Syndicate Space. State your business or be fired on."_

"I am Jedi Master Mace Windu, here seeking information on a missing jedi master and Senate aide," Mace replied.

There was a pause, during which Mace narrowed his eyes, fingers straying towards the command to activate his shields, and then the response came, _"A jedi master and Senatorial aide were here, but they were recalled for matters that were not made clear to the Pykes. They left the system five days ago."_

"Is that so?" Mace returned, suspicious. "Then why did I just find their shuttle crashed on one of Oba Diah's moons?"

There was another pause, then, _"The Pykes do not want jedi as their enemies. Their shuttle was attacked by an unknown ship as they were leaving the system. When the Pykes checked the crash to provide assistance, there were no bodies. It is believed their attacker left with them."_

Something about that rang...almost false in the Force, but also almost true. If Mace hadn't been a single shuttle, alone in Pyke space, he might have chased after the truth, but he wasn't suicidal, so he replied, "I see. Thank you for your assistance. Were your talks with the Republic settled sufficiently? I'm afraid I don't know all the details, but–"

_"The talks were settled sufficiently, yes!"_ came the immediate response, the Force pulsing with the falsehood.

"I'm glad," Mace lied, staring out the viewport towards the planet. "By your leave, then."

_"Safe flying, jedi,"_ came the response, and that, at least, tasted of honesty; the Pykes truly weren't looking to start hostilities with the jedi or the Republic, but Mace suspected they knew more about Sifo-Dyas' crashed shuttle than they were saying.

Well, that would need to be a mission for some other jedi; Mace had neither the firepower, nor was he willing to endanger what evidence he'd managed to unbury. So he turned away from the planet, input a destination on the other side of Hutt space, where he could safely call the Council without making any of the crime syndicates that claimed so many of the systems in this region nervous, and punched the hyperdrive once the computer finished the calculations.

With a sigh at the sight of hyperspace _yet again_ , Mace pulled the holocron out of the pouch he'd slipped it into. He suspected it would just hold more of Sifo-Dyas' rantings about a massive conflict and the Republic needing an army–

Mace froze, staring at the inactive holocron as he finally connected Sifo-Dyas' rantings with what Feemor had let slip about the future he'd lived: A galaxy-wide war and an army led by the jedi.

" _Kriff_ ," he breathed. They should have listened to Sifo-Dyas, just like they should have listened to Qui-Gon when he'd claimed he'd fought a sith on Tatooine, and Dooku when he'd started in on the corruption in the Senate having a negative impact on the Order. _Force_ , had the Council been letting themselves get too comfortable, too focussed on voices saying the same damn things, all agreeing with each other and refusing to heed warnings from others? Had they truly forgotten the point of picking so many different voices to sit their seats?

He rubbed tiredly at his face and activated the holocron. "I'm sorry, Sifo-Dyas," he told the hologram of the dead master that appeared. "I'm ready to listen, now."

Sifo-Dyas stared at him for a long moment, then started reciting the dire warnings of war and the need for an army that Mace had heard so many times before. And it was no more illuminating, now, than it had been a year ago.

_"I've had the last laugh, though,"_ Sifo-Dyas said, smirking at Mace. _"Yan helped me come up with the funds to create the army we'll need. You'll all see, in time."_

Mace had stiffened at the mention of the most recent member of the Lost Twenty. Who, according to the man's grandpadawan, was very much in danger of Falling and joining the sith. " _Dooku_ helped you with this?" he demanded.

Sifo-Dyas sniffed. _"Yes, another former member of the Council you would all prefer to pretend didn't have a mind of his own."_

"Sifo-Dyas, Dooku's _Fallen_ ," Mace insisted, even if they didn't have confirmation, because between erasing information from the archives and the _grief_ Yoda had been wearing about himself as he passed on Feemor's warnings, he couldn't imagine that wouldn't happen again.

_"Fallen? Yan?"_ Sifo-Dyas scoffed. _"He would never. He may enjoy reading of the dark side, but he would never Fall to it."_

The Pykes had said another ship had attacked Sifo-Dyas' ship and taken his body and that of the Senatorial aide. Would Dooku have–?

An army. Dooku had helped Sifo-Dyas fund an army. And Yoda had told them that Feemor said he had been the one they were fighting against.

"Sifo-Dyas," Mace interrupted the holocron's continued lauding of Dooku's character, "where is this army?"

Sifo-Dyas narrowed his eyes. _"Why? So you can put an end to it?"_

"No. Because another jedi has travelled back from our future, and you're _right_." Mace gritted his teeth, made himself add, "We should have listened to you."

Sifo-Dyas stared at him for a long moment, then said, _"I don't believe you."_ The matrix shut down.

Mace gave himself a moment to curse. Loudly.

As soon as he reached realspace, he comm'd the Council. It was probably pure chance that he managed to catch all of them in a meeting, but he was willing to give that one to the will of the Force and sent a well of gratitude towards it.

_"News, have you?"_ Yoda asked.

"I don't have confirmation of Sifo-Dyas' death," Mace admitted, "but I doubt he's alive. I found his shuttle downed on Oba Diah's moon, empty. A Pyke patrol told me they were shot down by a ship they didn't know, and that any bodies or survivors were gone by the time they checked. I sensed a lie, but I don't have the resources to press them for answers."

_"We can send a team out to do so, perhaps get a clearer image of events,"_ Eeth said musingly.

_"And a retrieval for Sifo-Dyas' ship,"_ Oppo added. _"Did you manage to find anything of note within the crash?"_

Mace unclipped Sifo-Dyas' lightsabre from his belt and held it up to show them. "I managed to get some things off the computer, though none of it looks particularly useful, and Silman's datapad, which will need to be unlocked by the Senate. I also found a holocron Sifo-Dyas was working on. He doesn't trust me, for reasons which should be surprising to no one–"

Someone snorted.

"–but he did tell me he managed to find the funds for his army, with Dooku's help."

Mace could almost sense the round of shock and concern that went around the room.

"Is Feemor free?" he asked, because he'd been travelling so long, he couldn't guarantee his sense of Coruscant time.

_"He should be at the Senate, right now,"_ Adi replied, shaking her head.

_"Take a couple of hours to eat and meditate,"_ Yarael suggested. _"We'll comm back once we have him here."_

_"Maybe take some pain killers in advance, Mace,"_ Depa added, teasing.

Mace sighed. "We'll speak in a few hours, then," he replied, and signed off.

And then he did, in fact, go to check the shuttle's medical supplies for pain killers.

BREAK

When they comm'd back a couple of hours later, they discussed a few Temple issues that had come up while Mace had been travelling, then called Feemor in. The shatterpoints around him weren't held at bay by the distance, but the pain killers blocked the worst of the headache the man's circumstances usually gave him, and Mace used the rare chance to examine the elder master.

The small shipboard holograms were hardly useful for details, but stress was writ obviously enough in the deepening lines around his eyes and mouth, far more prominent than they'd seemed the last time Mace had chanced a look at him. He held himself in an easy manner, shoulders loose and legs ever so slightly spread, hands folding politely in front of himself as he straightened from his bow of greeting.

It was a deceiving stance, Mace knew, had seen far too many jedi holding themselves in exactly the same way jump into action almost before anyone realised there was danger. Peacekeepers and investigators, usually, some diplomats and shadows, those who had a history of missions going arse over and needing to pull a lightsabre or other weapon in a heartbeat.

Feemor had never fallen into any of those categories, had always had far more luck than the rest of his lineage when it came to missions ending peacefully; he had never moved with that easy grace of someone used to fighting for his life, and Mace had to wonder how many others in the Temple had started to realise that something soul-deep had changed about the mild-mannered master, something completely unrelated to the long-overdue rescinding of his repudiation.

(He wondered, too, more privately, whether the man was in danger of joining his former master as one of the greatest duellists in the Order, which had never been a title Feemor had attempted to claim.)

_"Masters,"_ Feemor murmured. _"You have questions for me?"_

Eyes turned to Mace, and he inclined his head. "I'd like you to tell us more about the army of the other side. The one Dooku leads?"

It's only because he could see everything as a tiny image in front of him, rather than sitting in his usual seat, that he noticed Yoda's ears droop.

Feemor glanced at the Grandmaster, mouth tugging down ever so slightly, then looked back at Mace. _"The Seps?"_ he asked, and Mace couldn't stop his eyebrows from raising at being granted a name. _"We actually faced the beginnings of them on Naboo; they used battle droids. B1s to start, with the droidekas, but they advanced quickly, working towards the BX and MagnaGuards. Models meant for facing jedi,"_ he added.

Well, wasn't _that_ a grim thought.

_"The B1s and B2s were the most common, even later in the war,"_ Feemor offered, and Mace could only guess at what cues he was reading in the Force from the other Councillors. _"The B1s go down quick, and the B2s are better armoured, but a lightsabre can take them out easily, or a hail of blasterfire. Droidekas are only a problem if you let them set their legs and get their shields on, and, even then, you can get through those by walking up behind them, or rolling a grenade at the right velocity."_

_"And the ones to fight jedi?"_ Oppo requested, clearly filing all of the information away for later consideration; Mace suspected the Thisspias would be requesting a more detailed brief from Feemor later, so he could fully peruse each model's strengths and weaknesses, build up battleplans they could refer to in future, should the war occur again.

_"Ah. They were more agile, moved faster. The MagnaGuards were almost always equipped with vibrostaffs, I believe?"_

_"You don't know for certain?"_ Eeth enquired, not judging, just curious.

Feemor shrugged. _"I was clean-up; we got the B1s and B2s that got left behind. Sometimes a surviving vulture droid or three would attack our ship when we entered the system, or on our way down to the surface. Rarely, a semi-functioning tactical droid would manage to put together a resistance."_ He rubbed a hand over his mouth, cocking his head to one side. _"I did face one BX. It was...not something I should like to repeat."_

Mace could translate that any number of ways, none of them good. He did know, at least, that Feemor had survived the occasion, given he'd said it was one of his own soldiers who shot him.

Feemor clasped his hands together again, over-long tunic sleeves falling loosely over them. _"May I ask why you're asking? I had believed the Trade Federation and their allies would pause their droid productions for a while. Or, at the least, stay enough under the radar to keep the Republic from suspecting them of warmongering."_

That was another problem to send a team to look into, then. How delightful.

_"Recall Sifo-Dyas, do you?"_ Yoda asked.

_"Master Sifo-Dyas? Yes. He was on the Council for years, and a good friend of Master Yan's. He died..."_ He trailed off, blinking. _"Oh. He was the one I felt die?"_

"We can only assume," Mace admitted drily. "I've found his crashed shuttle, but there's no body."

_"He's the only jedi who fit your criteria who is unaccounted for,"_ Plo said.

_"Mace found some evidence that he was working with Master Dooku to fund an army, however,"_ Adi explained. _"He was **convinced** we would need one, but none of us would believe him."_

Feemor let out a quiet hum of acknowledgement. _"Master Yan **would** be the jedi to go to when you needed help raising funds under the noses of the rest of the Order,"_ he said drily, and Mace doubted he was the only one to grimace in acknowledgement. _"But I can't imagine someone like Master Sifo-Dyas funding a–"_ He froze, his eyes going wide.

_"Master Feemor?"_ Depa called.

_"I'm sorry,"_ Feemor said, his voice gone a little odd. _"The systems Master Yan attempted to erase from the Archives, is Kamino on there?"_

_"Kamino?"_ Yarael repeated, even as he and most of the other members of the Council pulled out their datapads to check.

(Mace regretted leaving his behind, but it had been better to leave it safely in Temple, than to chance it ending up in the hands of someone unsavoury if his mission had gone to hell.)

_"Kamino, out in wild space,"_ Eeth said.

Feemor closed his eyes and let out a long, steady breath, then looked at Mace. _"The Kaminoans are cloners; when we found them ten years from now, they had an army waiting for us, cloned from the genes of a Mandalorian bounty hunter. They had already been fully paid for, and we weren't in a position to ask any questions. Or,"_ he added, tone going self-deprecating, _"if the Council did, the answers weren't shared with the rest of the Order."_

An army of _clones_. That did sound far more to Sifo-Dyas' taste than an army of droids. More comfortable for much of the Order, even, especially those who specialised in the Living Force.

_"If Master Dooku knows about this army, why didn't he sabotage them in some way?"_ Adi asked.

_"What's to say he didn't,"_ Even returned with a hint of a bite. _"Without Sifo-Dyas there to tell someone–"_

_"Feemor!"_ Yoda called, even as Depa rushed up out of her chair, datapad clattering to the floor, and hurried forward to the master in the centre of the circle.

Feemor flinched away from her when she touched his arm, body twisting into a low Soresu guard, one hand reaching for his lightsabre, only to freeze when he found nothing there, because Yoda had already summoned it away.

_"Master Feemor,"_ Depa said, voice careful and hands held up in a show of peace. _"Do you know where you are?"_

Feemor didn't speak for a moment, and then he rasped, _"Council room. **Kriff**."_ He straightened, and Mace didn't think he was imagining the fine tremors shaking his form. _"I...apologise."_

_"Your fault that was not,"_ Yaddle insisted. _"Healing you still are."_

The sound Feemor let out could have been termed a laugh, if one was feeling generous.

Depa reached out again, making sure he could see her this time, and took his arm. _"Come here and sit down,"_ she insisted, motioning back towards her empty chair.

_"No, it's fine, I'm **fine** ,"_ Feemor insisted, because he really _had_ been raised by Qui-Gon Jinn.

_"Sit you will, Great-Grandpadawan,"_ Yoda ordered, _"or return your lightsabre I will not."_

_" **Troll** ,"_ Feemor returned without any real heat, and allowed Depa to lead him back to her seat. Only once he looked like he would stay, did Yoda float his lightsabre back to him, while Depa collected her datapad and stood politely just off to the side, in front of the doors.

_"May we ask what triggered that?"_ Yarael enquired gently.

Feemor folded his hands together in his lap, casually twitching the sleeves of his outer tunic to cover them from view, the same way he'd had them while standing. _"I believe Master Yan **did** sabotage the Vo– the clones,"_ he said in an almost-casual voice. _"Neh– My subordinate and I were...not what I would call friends, but to unhesitatingly shoot me was not in his character, wasn't in the character of any of them. Their training included following the orders of jedi **utterly without question** , and while plenty did learn to question us, especially in regard to our own health–"_ his mouth quirked, fond _"–following an order to shoot one of us is something else entirely."_

_"You're certain about that?"_ Even asked.

Feemor's head tilted to the side slightly. _"Think of them like padawans,"_ he said in a thoughtful tone. _"They think the world of the jedi leading them, but they also recognise we're fallible and sometimes need a second pair of eyes or hands to get a job done properly."_

_"A padawan would never attack their master,"_ Depa murmured, looking at Mace with a troubled frown. _"Not without extenuating circumstances."_

_"Or the influence of the dark side,"_ Feemor said, something weighted in his tone.

Mace had a sinking feeling that, whatever Feemor had just thought of, whatever horrors waited them in the future, he was very much not going to enjoy them.

_"If Master Dooku is working with the sith master who is controlling Palpatine,"_ Oppo mused, and Mace really wished the Thisspias master thought of things a little less tactically, some days, _"he can pit two armies against one another, wearing down anyone who might be inclined to fight for the 'right thing'. And then, once a certain goal has been met, use a failsafe built into the armies as sabotage by the other side to wipe out the last of those who might oppose them."_

_"We won,"_ Feemor rasped, and even through the blue tones of the hologram, he looked pale and sickened. _"Master Yan was dead, and Yoda had just called me to let me know Obi-Wan had killed Gr– the other field leader. All the was left was the leaders of their senate, the ones who avoided the battlefield at any cost."_

Heads around the room turned towards the doors, and Mace could just barely hear the sounds of a commotion through the audio pick-up.

_"That sounds like Knight Kenobi,"_ Depa said, and Feemor let out a tired laugh, rubbing at his face.

Yoda motioned and the doors opened. The visual didn't extend past the room, but it didn't take long for Obi-Wan Kenobi and little Wangui to take the offer and step into the room, both looking a little uncertain.

But then Kenobi spotted Feemor and huffed out a strained laugh. _"I thought you were **joking** about one of us joining the Council to give Qui-Gon an aneurism,"_ he teased in a strained voice, while Wangui rushed over to her master and climbed into his lap like it was a perfectly normal thing to do.

(Given the way Feemor immediately wrapped his arms around her, perhaps it _was_ normal. For them. Mace knew just enough about Feemor's medical circumstances from before the time travelling to guess he would be dragged over hot coals by Healer Kloic Skey if he started judging how the elder master interacted with his lineage. Especially given how much more strain Feemor was under, between his future knowledge and having to deal with the chancellor daily.)

Feemor choked out a laugh. _"Oh, no, little brother, I really **wasn't** joking about one of us joining the Council. But it won't be me."_

Mace almost missed Kenobi's horrified look, his attention caught by the _looks_ Yaddle and Yarael were trading; he knew neither of the masters were comfortable with the idea of the Order having to go to war—none of them were _comfortable_ with the idea, in truth, but some of them could stomach the possibility of leading an army better than others—and wouldn't be surprised if they resigned their seats to masters they believed more capable of taking those reins. (Depa, Mace suspected, would follow their lead, though she hadn't been quite as vocal about her disapproval of their possible future.)

Mace had a sinking feeling he was going to need to get into the habit of taking pain killers before every Council meeting, because that look had been too perfectly timed to _not_ mean that Feemor was on a list of one or both of their preferred replacements. Which was sensible, since Feemor had more experience than any of them when it came to fighting in a galaxy-scale war, and was one of only two masters alive with experience fighting sith. (Not to mention his position as the chancellor's jedi advisor, which was historically a position held by someone on the Council.)

And then Feemor's comment to Kenobi registered, and Mace cast an appraising look over the young knight. He'd managed to kill a sith, and Feemor had said he'd taken the boy Qui-Gon was _convinced_ was the child of prophecy as his padawan and raised him to knighthood. Adding in his history of messy missions with Qui-Gon, including taking part in any number of outright wars—one of which he'd left the Order to fight in on his own—Mace could see how he would make a choice Councillor, especially during wartime.

...Mace almost wanted to drag them both onto the Council, just for Qui-Gon's reaction.

_"Master, what happened?"_ Wangui asked, sounding just as worried as Depa always had when Mace got a headache because of his ability to see shatterpoints.

Feemor shook his head and looked towards Kenobi. _"Just...something I didn't want to remember,"_ he said.

Kenobi hesitated for a moment, then reached out and gripped Feemor's shoulder. _"Wangui, we should let them finish their meeting,"_ he said as Feemor rested his own hand over Kenobi's.

_"What if he remembers something else really bad?"_ Wangui demanded.

_"Then we'll be right outside."_

_"Go on,"_ Feemor said, giving Wangui a gentle push. _"I don't think I'll be much longer. Maybe we can try that diner Obi-Wan swears by?"_

_"Dex's?"_ Kenobi said. _"That's a great idea, but if Qui-Gon finds out we went without him when he could have come, he'll be a misery."_

_"Ah. Why don't you go invite your grandmaster, then?"_ Feemor suggested to his padawan.

_"I know what you're doing,"_ Wangui informed them both, sounding just the slightest bit petulant. But she also slid out of her master's lap and stalked from the room, huffing a bit.

Kenobi stayed where he was for a moment longer, hand still on Feemor's shoulder, then nodded and stepped away, turning to bow to the room. _"I apologise for the interruption, masters,"_ he said, perfectly polite.

_"Understand we do,"_ Yoda said.

Kenobi bowed again, then took his leave, the doors falling shut behind him.

"What do I need to know about the clones and the Kaminoans?" Mace asked into the following silence, because it made sense to him that, since he was already outside the Temple, he might as well extend his mission to check on this army of clones.

_"Yes, it would be less noticeable for you to extend your trip, than for one of us to leave,"_ Ki-Adi commented. _"And it's clear this planet needs to be checked sooner, rather than later."_ Because they were trying to get jedi out to check all of the systems Dooku had erased, to find out what about each of them might have been worth hiding, but it was something they needed to keep quiet, away from any chance of the sith's allies finding out they still had access to that information. Which meant being careful who they sent to check and having to find reasons the Senate wouldn't note for jedi to extend a mission and check one of the systems that happened to be either nearby, or on their way.

Feemor was staring at Mace, and he wished the resolution on the holograms was better, because he just _knew_ there was something important about whatever his expression was. _"Kamino is a water planet,"_ he said after a moment that felt like it stretched too long, _"and suffers nearly constant rain. There are cities dotting the surface, all made up of structures built above the waves. Tipoca City is the one you'll want; I can only assume they'll direct you to it once you explain you're a jedi._

_"Kaminoans are all tall and thin, with long necks, not unlike Quermias."_ He nodded to Yarael, who let out a low, thoughtful hum. _"From what I've heard about them, they're, nearly as a whole, arrogant and slightly xenophobic. They also view the Vo– clones as **products** ,"_ he said, spitting the word like it was poison. _"They would kill clones who didn't meet their exacting standards."_

Mace stiffened, heard others draw in sharp breaths or let out noises of dismay; the idea of ending a sentient life just because it didn't match their idea of _perfect_ was...anathema to anyone with even the slightest connection to the Living Force.

_"Allow that we will **not** ,"_ Yaddle declared, an unusual hardness to her tone.

"Agreed," Mace said. "That's something I'll be talking with them about."

_"In the– During the war, a member of the Council stayed on at Kamino to act as oversight,"_ Feemor offered.

_"A not unwise course, with the sith involved,"_ Oppo mused. _"Mace, get the lay of the land, see where things stand, then we'll decide which of us would be best to remain on site for an extended stay."_ He turned to Feemor. _"Unless you know who did so during the war?"_

Feemor shrugged. _"They're not currently on the Council, and nor are they currently in a position to spend an extended time on Kamino."_

Someone huffed a quiet laugh, almost certainly at how Feemor avoiding giving any hints as to this potential future Councillor's identity.

_"Anything else, was there?"_ Yoda asked Feemor.

Feemor nodded. _"The Vo– clones–"_

_"Just say whatever it is you're trying not to say, Master Feemor,"_ Even snapped.

Feemor's jaw clenched, then he let out a sharp breath. _"Their progenitor is a Mandalorian; they referred to each other as vode, brothers. There was a lot of anti-clone sentiment from certain corners of the Republic, and the Seps weren't unknown to use the word as an insult, especially in anti-Republic propaganda. It...left a bad taste in my mouth, so I asked my men what they'd prefer to be called and they told me I was welcome to use what they were already calling each other."_

_"Understandable, that is,"_ Yaddle announced.

Feemor inclined his head to her and looked back at Mace. _"The Vode have been genetically engineered in a number of ways—faster, stronger, more accurate shooting—to be better partners for the jedi. They've also got accelerated growth, so they age two years for every one. It's the way the Kaminoans managed to have an entire army ready in ten years."_

_"Ends, does this accelerated ageing?"_ Yaddle asked.

_"And what happened when more cl– Sorry, when more Vode were needed? I assume there was a point during the war when the original army was no longer enough,"_ Eeth said.

_"I...don't know that the accelerated ageing ever stopped,"_ Feemor admitted, sounding troubled. _"We were far too focussed on the war and trying to get the Vode sentient rights, to worry about how quickly they might be ageing."_

_"Kark,"_ Even muttered, and Mace whole-heartedly agreed; the clones—Vode—had been made to fight in a war, and they hadn't even been granted basic sentient rights? What had the Republic come to?

_"And we did need more Vode, yes. The Kaminoans just...sped up their growth even more,"_ Feemor said, and there was something _off_ about his voice. _"Those Vode, they died a lot faster. Not enough training, not enough time to adapt to their changing bodies, I don't know, but it seemed like we had to light pyres for twice as many Vode after those ones started being sent out."_

_"At least two jedi will need to remain on Kamino,"_ Plo suddenly said, a hard, determined edge to his voice, audible even through the vocoder. _"One member of the Council to act as oversight and protection against sith influence, and one jedi with the biological and medical expertise necessary to oversee that care and engineer a cure for the accelerated ageing."_

_"And we'll set a group of consulars to working with those senators they trust to handle the matter delicately, to work on legislation to legalise cloning and grant rights to any clones in Republic space,"_ Adi added, right on his heels, the upwards tilt of her chin saying she would be working on that even without the Council's support.

_"Agreed,"_ and _"Seconded,"_ went around the room, unanimous support for both propositions given without hesitation, and Mace saw Feemor looking around at them all with an expression that looked very much like hope.

_"The doing of this Council the creation of the Vode was not,"_ Yoda said, firm and unyielding. _"Yet, ours to bear, much of the blame is. Our duty, to help them it is."_ He turned to Mace. _"Go to Kamino you will, yes; safeguard younglings you must."_

"Yes," Mace agreed. "Feemor, if anything relevant occurs to you..."

_"I'll pass it on to the Council at the first opportunity,"_ Feemor promised, pushing himself up from Depa's chair and brushing a hand down over his tunics.

"Good. Go see to your padawan."

Feemor bowed and took his leave.

Mace waited until Depa had retaken her seat, before he said, "I would appreciate _some_ warning before any of you resign and name Feemor as your preferred successor."

_"I don't believe we're **quite** at that point, Mace,"_ Yarael said, and Mace didn't need a perfect connection to know there would be mischief glinting in the Quermia's eyes.

_"Coming, a time for new voices is,"_ Yaddle added in a warning tone. _"Blindsided this Council has been, by the sith, by Sifo-Dyas' army. Much needed, Master Feemor is."_

_"He's certainly more than earnt the position,"_ Plo said, tone mild through the vocoder. _"As Yoda pointed out, he has passed a far greater Trial than any of us can truly understand."_

"I don't disagree," Mace interrupted, "I just need to stock up on pain medication."

Chuckles went around the room and Yarael promised, _"We'll let you know if any of our resignations are imminent. However, in the case of my untimely demise, yes, Master Feemor would be my preferred replacement."_

_"And mine,"_ Adi added.

_"Master Jinn is mine,"_ Yaddle offered, perfectly serene.

Mace's brain completely stopped working for a moment.

And then Yoda started cackling, while Oppo said, _"Mace, you may not be the only one needing to stock up on pain medication."_

Mace rubbed tiredly at his forehead. "Someone tell me the coordinates for Kamino. Please."

They waited as he put them into the computer and it worked out a route. He passed on the next time he was expecting to be out of hyperspace once it finished, Yoda promised one of them would be available for a check-in call, then he said his goodbyes and hit the button to return him to hyperspace.

And then he went to go lie down, because he really was sick of staring at hyperspace.

.


	2. I'm Gonna Say What I Need to Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read—well, listened to, tbh— _Shatterpoint_ between finishing the last chapter and starting this one, so if Mace's characterisation seems at all different, that's probably why.  
> I'm slowly working my way through the prequels era books, now I'm back at my hell-job and have 6-9hrs a night I'm on my feet with my hands busy. That said, I've been warned off the books by Karen Traviss, so while I may borrow some things from those, as gleaned via the wiki, I'm mostly making up the early days of the clone project as I please. XD
> 
> There is some minor Mando'a use in this chapter. Most (if not all?) of it should be pretty self-evident, but I've put in hover text, and I'll throw in a translation bit at the end of the chapter, for those on mobile or who otherwise can't see the hover text.

Kamino, as Feemor had promised, was very, very wet. It had also made up a large number of the coordinates he'd taken from Sifo-Dyas' shuttle computer, which made rather a lot of sense, and he was starting to wish he'd taken the time to look through them a little more thoroughly. Not that it had mattered, since they'd had the necessary information readily to hand. (And, in truth, had he made it back to the Temple without any leads, the coordinates would have been sifted through and held against their records. As soon as Kamino had pinged as one of the places Dooku had attempted to delete from the records, it would have jumped to the head of the list to be checked out.)

When Mace's appearance had been enquired after by the planet's system and he'd declared himself as the Head of the Jedi High Council, he was given coordinates to a landing platform at Tipoca City and told someone would meet him inside the facility.

So, upon landing, Mace pulled his hood up over his head, double-checked he had a rebreather (just in case), and hurried out into the storm and across the landing platform to the doors he could just make out through the rain, which opened automatically at his approach.

Inside, he found a long, curved hallway in stark white, and a tall, long-necked being waiting for him. "Master Jedi," they said in an vaguely feminine voice, inclining their head slightly, "welcome to Kamino. I am Taun We, the prime minister's aide. May I request the reason for your visit?"

Mace pushed his hood back off his head and bowed. "Greetings, Taun We," he replied politely. "I am called Mace Windu." Since they hadn't used his name, he could only assume they hadn't been told it, though he had introduced himself when initially contacted. "Master Sifo-Dyas has died, and the Jedi Council was only just made aware of his project with your people. I've come to observe this project and report back to the Council."

"I understand," Taun We said, then motioned along the hallway, saying, "You will need to speak to our prime minister, Lama Su, for permission to observe the project."

Mace raised an eyebrow, but didn't argue; he suspected Taun We simply didn't have the power to give him permission to view anything more until he'd spoken to the prime minister. (It was very similar to how the Temple would react to an unexpected visitor, or someone who was there to visit with a jedi who was on probation or unconscious in the Halls.) "Of course," he agreed.

Taun We led the way through the curved white halls, sometimes broken up by windows showing the constant storm outside, to a room with another tall, pale-skinned Kaminoan. "Prime Minister, this is Jedi Master Mace Windu," Taun We explained to the new Kaminoan. "He has come to observe the project."

"Prime Minister," Mace greeted with a bow. "Unfortunately, Master Sifo-Dyas died without passing along much information about this project, beyond that he had requested an army of clones and that another, now former, jedi assisted him in procuring the necessary funds. I, and the rest of the Jedi Council, would appreciate any information you might be able to give me."

"Of course, Master Mace Windu," the prime minster agreed evenly, their voice masculine, and motioned for what appeared to be a chair to draw up for Mace to sit in. "If you will be willing to wait, I will call Ko Sai, the chief scientist of the project, to join us. She will have much information I do not."

"Of course," Mace agreed, and settled in to wait in the offered chair, as Lama Su moved away to activate a comm unit, and Taun We exited the room. The chair, while extremely odd in appearance, was one of the more comfortable ones he'd suffered over his career, the inside made of an unfamiliar material that had sufficient give to cushion even the most bony species, while not being so soft as to let him lose himself in the give.

Once Lama Su finished their comm call, they joined Mace in a chair of their own, and proceeded to answer what questions they could until Ko Sai arrived and took over.

From what Mace was told, Sifo-Dyas (and Dooku), had commissioned three million clones— _Vode_ , Mace couldn't stop from thinking whenever one of the Kaminoans called them clones or, worse, _units_ —to be ready in ten years for the Republic's use, under the jurisdiction of the Jedi Order. Basic training information, as well as the human template, had been given with the necessary funds to cover all three million Vode. The 'template'—because the Kaminoans couldn't even refer to a non-clone as a sentient being deserving respect—had requested the first of the Vode to be completely unaltered and given to him to raise as his own.

"Unaltered?" Mace had asked, eyes narrowed.

Their growing speed had been doubled, of course, Lama Su explained, and some unwanted qualities, such as allergies, were removed from the DNA they were using. They'd also added genetic markers for beneficial qualities, such as greater stamina and obedience, so they would both be able to keep up better with the jedi, and be more inclined than the 'template' to follow orders.

Mace had just been about to ask about the 'template'—the Mandalorian bounty hunter Feemor had mentioned, he assumed—when Ko Sai had joined them and took over the explanation, delving almost happily into the technical details.

When Ko Sai mentioned the increased ageing, Mace interrupted, "The ageing, can it be reversed?"

Ko Sai blinked. "Well, yes, presumably. But I cannot imagine why that would be necessary."

"Because these are _sentient beings_ ," Mace said, voice gone tight, reminding himself, silently, that Feemor had _warned him_ the Kaminoans didn't see the Vode the same way any jedi would. "They have a right to the fullness of a human lifespan."

Ko Sai blinked again and opened her mouth to reply, only for Lama Su to interrupt, "As you say, Master Jedi. Ko Sai will look into a way to reverse the ageing." And then they switched to a language Mace didn't recognise _at all_ , the words rapid and spoken with that rasping sibilance that many reptilian species' languages seemed to share.

As Ko Sai replied in the same language, Mace made a mental note to see if they had any resources for the Kaminoan language that could be uploaded to personal pads or a protocol droid, for those jedi who remained on Kamino.

"Yes, of course," Ko Sai told Mace, inclining her head.

Most of her technical details left Mace's head spinning, just a bit, but he did ask for clarification on some points, including the various changed qualities. Most of it sounded very like requests in the best interests of soldiers meant to be working with jedi, while lacking access to the Force themselves, or an attempt at genetic perfection, which Mace could almost understand—he knew a number of jedi who had got eye surgery so they didn't have to wear glasses, which would be a hazard in a combat situation—but he did have to ask, "And those that don't meet your exacting standards?"

"They will be terminated," Ko Sai promised.

"They will not," Mace returned firmly.

"Master Jedi," Lama Su said with the air of a politician attempting to win Mace to their side, "Kamino prides itself on delivering only the best products. Surely you can understand why we wouldn't wish to offer deficient product."

Mace lifted his chin and met the prime minister's eyes. "Jedi philosophy disallows the needless sacrifice of any and all life," he replied flatly. " ' _Deficient_ ' or otherwise. Understand me, Prime Minister Lama Su: The Jedi Council _did not_ make the choice to deal with Kamino, that choice was made by a master who has since died; if we discover that this army being created in our name is being done in such a manner as to insult our ways and philosophies, we are not beholden to honour any deals made with your people.

"We intend to see these...clones–" calling them Vode wouldn't make sense to the Kaminoans, he was certain "– _every single one_ , survive to maturation, and those who cannot serve the purpose of soldiers will be slotted into other positions. If we discover otherwise, we will withdraw our support and our order, and you will be forced to find another client for those clones already born."

A heavy silence fell over the room, Mace staring down the Kaminoans with the icy glare that had terrified many a Temple youngling over the years. (Depa had once told him it made him look like he was plotting the focus of his glare's murder. Or impending, abject humiliation.)

Finally, Lama Su agreed, "We understand, Master Jedi."

Mace inclined his head. "Then I hope you will also understand why the Jedi Council will request residence for jedi on the premises, to ensure there are no...mistakes."

"Of course," Lama Su agreed, and while their tone didn't change, there was a definite sense of irritation in the Force from both Kaminoans. "We would be delighted to host jedi."

"I'm pleased to hear that," Mace said, and made a mental note to ensure that any and all jedi who served as overseers on Kamino were made aware that their presence wasn't entirely welcome. Not that that had stopped the Order in the past, when they believed their attendance was necessary for the sake of peace or the preservation of life, but it was something that they preferred to know going into such an assignment.

He turned to Ko Sai. "Are there any of the clones I might see now?"

Ko Sai seemed somehow stiff, though the impression was more in the Force than obvious in her appearance. "I regret that the first batch are not yet sufficiently grown to be removed from their incubation tubes, although they should reach that point in the coming days, if the master jedi wishes to observe the process?"

"I would," he agreed mildly.

Lama Su let out a quiet, almost musical sound and inclined their head. "I will have Taun We show you to quarters for the duration of your stay," they promised. "If there wasn't anything else you wished to enquire about now?" Something about their tone suggested they should very much prefer that Mace _didn't_ have any further questions or comments.

Mace considered that, then inclined his head. "I had wondered about the...template, you called him? The one the clones are based on."

"A bounty hunter called Jango Fett," Lama Su replied carelessly.

Mace froze, his blood almost seeming to have turned to ice in his veins at the name. "I'm sorry," he heard himself say, voice just shy of too tight, "but did you say _Jango Fett_?"

"Yes. You are familiar with him?"

"We've never met," Mace admitted, "but I know of him."

Yes, of _course_ Mace knew of the only Mandalorian survivor of the battle at Galidraan. He'd only just joined the Council when that particular massacre occurred; he wasn't likely to forget any of the relevant details, nor the name of the survivors.

_Sifo-Dyas,_ he thought at the deceased master, _what have you **done**?_

"I will have Taun We introduce you," Lama Su decided, evidently unaware of the potential _situation_ of having someone who had sworn vengeance on the whole of the Jedi Order in the same place as a member of the Jedi Council.

"Of course," Mace agreed, uncertain how to avoid the meeting without arousing suspicion, and aware that such a meeting would occur sooner or later; better him, now, than to spring this mess on one of those jedi who relieved him.

Taun We didn't take long to arrive, once Lama Su summoned them, and Mace left the room and the two tense Kaminoans behind. He wished he could say it was a relief to get away from their strained Force senses, but he knew he was soon to be in a far more strained situation.

Taun We led him, once again, through the curving white halls, until they reached a new, non-descript door, which they tapped a button just to the side of. After a moment, the door slid open and revealed a dark-haired, brown-skinned man with sharp eyes that took in Taun We with a brief flicker before focussing on Mace, casting over his tunics and cloak, and narrowing, rage and violence filling the Force around him.

Before Taun We could introduce him, Mace bowed and said, "Mand'alor Fett."

" _Jetii_ ," Fett replied, ice in his voice.

"This is Jedi Master Mace Windu," Taun We said, sounding just the slightest bit perturbed. "He has come on behalf of the Jedi Council to observe the project."

"Imagine that," Fett said, voice low and hostile stare meant for Mace alone, "a jetii sticking their nose in the business of others."

Mace raised an eyebrow at him. "By all accounts, Mand'alor, this...'project' _is_ jedi business."

Fett's jaw clenched at his title, something about him almost seeming to flinch away from the use of it, and Mace frowned at that, just a little, even as Fett snarled, "You're not _wanted_ here, _jetti_."

"Jango!" Taun We chided.

Mace held up a hand to her. "He has his reasons for his hostility," he said flatly, "and I respect that. But you _will_ need to get used to seeing jedi, Fett," he told the Mandalorian. "You, of all people, should understand why the Council wishes to have all of the possible information before committing to an event that might result in the deaths of multiple sentients."

Fett muttered something in what Mace suspected was Mando'a, and he had little doubt it was insulting. In Basic, he said, "Good for you, you've learnt something." And then he stepped backward, touching the wall to the side of the door, and it hissed closed between them.

"I...apologise for Jango," Taun We said, sounding almost stunned. "I have never–"

"There is bad blood between him and the Jedi Order," Mace interrupted mildly. "As I said, I am aware of and respect his hostility. I am certain the difficulty can be worked around for so long as both he and any jedi are in residence."

"I do hope so," Taun We settled on, then seemed to shake themself and asked, "Have you need to return to your ship?"

"Yes," Mace agreed. "I need to contact the Jedi Council and collect my things."

Taun We inclined their head. "Then, with your agreement, I will show you to your landing pad and have someone wait for you to come back inside to show you to your lodgings."

"That sounds most acceptable, thank you, Taun We."

They inclined their head again, a faint note of pleasure winding through their Force presence, then turned and led the way back to the landing platform his ship was parked on.

Mace wasn't particularly surprised when his comm was bounced to Yoda—it truly had been luck, that he'd ever managed to call in during a meeting, without planning for it in advance—and he ran through all the relevant information with the Grandmaster, certain he was being recorded, so Yoda wouldn't have to remember every little thing.

_"Trouble you, something does?"_ Yoda asked once they'd gone through everything he'd learnt about the Kaminoans and the Vode.

Mace sighed and nodded. "The one the Vode are clones of is Jango Fett."

Yoda's ears went up in surprise. _"Warn us of this, Feemor did not."_

Mace shook his head. "It's possible he didn't know Fett's history. Wasn't he on a long-term mission during Galidraan?"

_"On Umbara he was,"_ Yoda agreed, sounding almost tired. He let out a long, heavy sigh. _"Into our considerations this must go, for those to remain on Kamino."_

Mace nodded. "I don't believe any of the Galidraan survivors would fit our criteria, but we'll have to send people with thick skin. And probably someone who speaks Mando'a." Although, really, they had already been talking about that; given that Feemor had said the Vode had been referring to each other with a Mando'a word, it wasn't a stretch to think they might have been taught more of the language. Not that many active jedi spoke the language, however, given Mandalore's long history of civil wars and their distrust of jedi.

(Mace had been a little too amused at the realisation that Qui-Gon, Kenobi, and—presumably—Feemor made up a depressingly large percent of those jedi. It was almost a pity they couldn't really send Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan on a long-term mission, in keeping with the promise to always have at least one of them on Coruscant for so long as Feemor was serving as Palpatine's advisor, because they very likely knew at least as much as the Council about the Vode and the dangers awaiting them, which meant they wouldn't need to be read in, the way someone outside the Council or that lineage would need to be.)

_"Discuss it further we will,"_ Yoda decided. _"To call back, a good time there is?"_

"I actually don't know what time it is, here," Mace admitted, looking out at the sheeting rain. "If this would be a good time, I can call in at the same time tomorrow."

_"Late it is, but acceptable this time is,"_ Yoda said, and Mace suspected the Grandmaster wouldn't hesitate to harass other Councillors until they dragged themselves out of bed, if necessary.

"Then I'll comm in tomorrow. Hopefully with a better idea of what might be expected of someone remaining on Kamino."

_"Agreed. To say, have you anything else?"_

Mace considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "No, I believe that's everything of import for the moment. May the Force be with you, Yoda."

_"With you, also, Mace,"_ Yoda returned, and the transmission ended.

Mace stared out at the rain for a long moment, then turned and went to collect his go-bag. Once he had it packed back up—he'd been in living on the ship for far too long not to have unpacked _some_ things—he hid it under his cloak, then raced out into the storm and back into the building, where an unfamiliar Kaminoan was awaiting him.

They led him to a sparsely furnished, and still very white, set of rooms not too far from the dock his ship was on, for which he was especially grateful. Before they left, he asked about a tour of the facility and was told that would have to wait for the morrow.

Rather than argue, he inclined his head, thanked them for the guide, and settled in to record a more thorough report of his visit to Kamino so far, for archival purposes, then decided to get some sleep, once he'd found a chrono with the local time and determined that it was a reasonable time to do so; Tipoca City, it seemed, wasn't that far off from the time at the Temple, which was something of a relief.

BREAK

He received a tour of the facility the next day, led around by one of Ko Sai's aides. He was shown the room hosting the incubation tubes, where nine tiny foetuses were curled up, on the verge of coming out into the world.

"Only nine?" he'd asked the aide, Ni Timor.

"A test run," a voice that wasn't his guide's snapped, right before a new Kaminoan stepped into the room, a datapad in one hand and a glower so obvious on their face, Mace didn't need the Force to read the expression. They turned to the aide and demanded, "Who is this and why is it in my lab?"

The aide inclined their head, embarrassment loud in the Force, and explained, "This is Jedi Master Mace Windu, here to observe our progress. You should have received notice he would be coming."

The new Kaminoan let out a grating noise and stepped up to a console, back to them. "It's observed, now it can leave."

"Of course," Mace agreed mildly, to save his embarrassed guide from having to argue their right to be there.

Ni Timor waited until they'd left the lab before saying, "I apologise for Orun Wa, Master Jedi. He is always...brusque."

"I understand," Mace replied, because while that had been the most hostile one of the Kaminoans had been openly, he could feel a low-level hostility or disinterest from nearly all of them, through the Force. Ni Timor, thankfully, was one of the more welcoming of their people, which was likely why they had been designated Mace's guide. "If I may, however, why such a small test run? I had received the impression that cloning is something your people have been doing for so long, you are the galaxy's foremost experts."

Ni Timor puffed up a little bit with pride at the compliment, which had been Mace's intention. "We are, yes," they agreed. "But, have you never found, Master Jedi, that a single element may change an entire project?"

Mace considered that, how two nearly exact copies of the same datapad could have slightly different shatterpoints, or how there were various and wildly differing ways of approaching negotiations with various species, and nodded. "Yes," he said, and then, "Ah," as he realised the point Ni Timor was dancing around. "The act of cloning different beings can have very different outcomes, and you won't know _how_ different until you've made your first attempt."

Ni Timor inclined their head. "The initial test was twelve," they said, a hint of pity in their Force presence, though Mace suspected it was aimed more at Orun Wa and the other scientists, than for those Vode who had died. "It is almost certain we will lose at least one more before they're ready to be decanted."

Mace swallowed down a burst of rage at the loss of life, reminded himself that not every unborn child would make it to their birth, and gave the anger to the Force; he couldn't hold the failures of initial experimentation against the Kaminoans, no matter how much their callousness for the lost lives _hurt_. "I understand," he said, and the words tasted bitter.

Ni Timor went on to talk about the next step of the project as they showed him to a room with quite a few more tubes than the first lab. "Once we have learnt what modifications will and will not be accepted, we will do a secondary test of one hundred."

Mace nodded along, staring out over the small sea of incubation tubes and not sure he wanted to know how many of the one hundred were expected to die before they could be born.

He was eventually left with the material the Kaminoans had for developing a training programme for the Vode, and he settled in at the console he was waved to, reading over the materials and wishing, almost inexplicably, that Feemor was there, since he would know best how the Vode would work with the jedi and each other.

At the Council meeting that evening, he passed along the information he'd been allowed to take. Unsurprisingly, Oppo wanted to look it all over, and Mace was beginning to suspect the Thisspias would be their choice to send to Kamino, as he was far more tactically-minded than the majority of the Council, and his way of thinking could only be a boon in training this unasked-for army.

When Mace requested the information also be forwarded on to Feemor, for his thoughts on the matter and any wisdom he might wish to pass on, Yoda promised to see that his great-grandpadawan got it. (Apparently, Feemor had got used to having tea with Yoda in the future, which Yoda had agreed to taking up as a weekly practise, as soon as Feemor had mentioned it; Mace honestly couldn't tell if this was Yoda's way of reaching out to a part of his lineage he thought needed his help, or if he was himself in need of tea partners. Either way, it was in equal parts heartening and heartbreaking; they were, perhaps, the two jedi most familiar with the loss of friends and members of their lineage, and that had to be a comfort, to have someone to converse with about such topics.)

They made plans for him to comm in again the next evening, then Mace signed off and retired to his room for the night.

BREAK

The next day found him in the lab with the—now only seven—active incubation tubes. Orun Wa was nowhere in the vicinity, so he'd felt secure in getting a closer look at the near-infants, and had eventually settled in to meditate, letting the quiet warmth of the seven lives soothe the tension that had been plaguing him almost since Feemor had first comm'd him.

One of the seven felt ever so slightly wrong in the Force, and Mace reached out to him, trying to soothe the hurt.

"What do you think you're doing in here?!" a voice shouted, breaking him out of his meditation.

Mace opened his eyes and looked up and up at Orun Wa. He blinked at him, then turned to the tubes and pointed to the one that had felt _wrong_. "That one," he said, "there's something wrong with them."

Orun Wa scoffed. "There's nothing–"

Mace turned a hard stare on the Kaminoan and said, tight and just barely resisting the urge to use the Force to _make_ the scientist care, "There. Is. Something. _Wrong_. Do you really care so little for their lives?"

Orun Wa stared at him, a sense of a sneer in his Force presence, for a long moment before he stepped forward, tapping at the control panel on the side of the tube. The panel let out a low beep, and the Kaminoan was no longer so dismissive, was pulling out a comm and hissing something in their language into it. "Get out, jedi," he said once he'd shoved it back away. "You'll only be in the way."

Mace could sense three beings approaching with speed, so he bowed and took his leave, stepping out of the way to let the three Kaminoan scientists hurry past him when he saw them in the hall.

There was little else he could do.

BREAK

Confirmation that the Vode would survive came from an unexpected quarter: When Mace stepped back inside the facility after his comm with the Council, dripping with rainwater, he found Fett waiting for him, arms crossed tight over his chest and a scowl twisting his mouth.

"Mand'alor Fett," Mace greeted mildly.

Fett's arms tightened over his chest and his scowl deepened. " _Jetii_ ," he snapped back, no more welcoming than the last time he'd spoken to Mace. "Why the kriff did you do that?"

Mace blinked. "Do what?" he asked, honestly confused about the question. Go out into the blasted storm? Comm the Council? Call him Mand'alor?

"Save the clone."

"Ah." Mace folded his arms behind his back. "He'll survive, then?"

Fett glared at him, but bit out, "Yes, they found the genetic instability in time."

"I'm glad."

" _Are_ you?" Fett demanded, taking a threatening step forward.

"Yes." When Fett just scoffed, Mace added, "Fett, despite what you think of us, I did not come here to watch the Vode die."

Fett stiffened, a wariness in his eyes. "Vode," he said, voice gone flat. "Why call them that?"

Mace cleared his throat, barely stopping a wince; he hadn't meant to use that word with anyone outside the Order. "That is what another jedi calls them," he admitted, because he very much doubted he could brush off that tongue slip. And, honestly, lying to Fett could only do them more damage, in the long run, especially if whoever replaced him made the same slip later on.

" _Why_?" Fett demanded, somehow imposing, despite Mace having nearly ten centimetres on him.

Mace took a moment to consider his answer, before saying, "I'm sure you're aware that cloning isn't particularly...legal, in the Republic."

Fett sneered. "Really?" he said, just a hint of a sarcastic edge to his voice. "I had _no idea_."

Mace hummed. "Calling them 'clones' didn't sit well with him, given that, so he's been calling them 'Vode'. He said it means 'brothers', and is that not what they will be?"

Fett seemed to almost...soften, somehow. "Yes," he said, and there was still a harshness to his voice, a refusal to grant even a moment of grace. But, too, there was something in his eyes, something Mace would almost call love.

Inexplicably, Mace was reminded of Feemor, of the broken look in his eyes when he'd shouted them down over Skywalker, telling them the war had decimated his lineage. And, yet, he'd seemed so warm and bright with Wangui, like her existence eased the loss he carried.

Somehow, he thought Fett and Feemor might get along, connected by a loss no other jedi—save, perhaps, Yoda, who had lived long enough to watch generations of jedi live and die—could ever hope to understand.

And then Fett shook his head, any hint of softness leaving him as he narrowed his eyes. "Tell me, jetii, if the Republic is so against clones, why order an army of them?" he demanded.

Mace couldn't stop his shoulders from tightening. "We didn't," he said, voice coming out flat. "One jedi master took this action without permission; we only discovered it because of his death."

Fett frowned. "Tyranus is dead?"

Mace frowned right back; there was something almost _familiar_ about that name, but he couldn't quite place why. "Tyranus? There is no jedi by that name. The one who dealt with the Kaminoans was Sifo-Dyas."

Fett's brow furrowed, confusion and a redirected suspicion easing his hostility. "I don't know any Sifo-Dyas. Tyranus was the one who bankrolled the hit on that chakaar jetii and gave me this job once she was dead."

"Explain that," Mace ordered, struggling with the rage that filled him at the news that Fett had killed _another_ jedi. And had been paid to do so by someone pretending to be a jedi.

Fett smirked at him. "Oh?" he said, taunting. "I'm sorry, jetii, did you forget who–"

Mace had him by the throat and slammed back against one of the stark white walls almost before he realised he was about to do it, Force reaching out and stilling the Mandalorian's hands before he could grab for the blaster he wore openly. "I don't need you, Fett," he snarled, because they _didn't_. The Kaminoans surely had enough genetic material to get on with their work. And, if they didn't, they would simply scrap the project all together, and damn Sifo-Dyas, or find someone else to take Fett's place.

How many jedi had they missed the deaths of? How many others were merely assumed missing, as Sifo-Dyas might have been, while their murderer walked free?

" _Vosa_ ," Fett bit out.

Mace let him go, surprised enough to push back the anger that that been trying to overwhelm him. "Vosa?" he repeated.

"She got what she deserved," Fett snarled, rubbing at his throat. "She was one of the ones at Galidraan, _laughing_ as she slaughtered _my people_."

Komari Vosa, Dooku's former and repudiated padawan. She'd left the Order immediately after Dooku had refused to finish her training, and Mace couldn't recall having heard hide nor hair of her in... _years_.

Fett let out a sharp cough, then muttered, "I didn't even kill her; Tyranus finished her off."

_Tyranus_. Why was the name _familiar_? Why had he wanted a washed out padawan killed? What did he have to do with Sifo-Dyas and his army? With Dooku?

Mace was turning around and rushing back out into the rain to his ship almost before he'd finished making the connection between Vosa's death and Dooku's part in the army; could Tyranus be some sort of alternate name Dooku was using?

The person who answered his call was far too short to be the intended recipient, and her eyes widened as the holo cleared as much as it could, saying, _"Master Windu!"_

"Padawan Wangui," Mace replied in as bland a tone as he could manage with his mind racing, needing confirmation from the only person who might have answers. "Is your master in?"

_"Yes, please wait a moment,"_ she agreed, then vanished from the visual pickup, calling, _"Master! The Council is calling!"_

_"The Council?"_ Feemor replied, amusement in his voice. And then, after a beat, _"Master Windu?"_ he asked, though he didn't appear in the visual.

"I need a word, Master Feemor," Mace said.

_"Ah,"_ Feemor said, and then, _"Wangui, bed."_

_"But, Master–"_

_"What was that? It sounded like you were requesting another three hours of meditation."_

The girl let out a loud, unhappy sigh. _"I **said** I was sorry,"_ she said, just loud enough for the audio pickup, and then, louder, called, _"Good night, Master Windu. Good night, Master."_

"Good night, Padawan Wangui," Mace replied.

_"Good night, my precious padawan,"_ Feemor said, warmth in his voice. Only once there was the sound of a door snicking closed, did he say, _"Video, Master Windu?"_

Mace rubbed at the headache that had started brewing before he'd even made it to the ship. "Who is Tyranus?" he demanded.

There was a moment of silence, and then Feemor slid into the seat in front of the comm console on his end, resolving into a blue figure on Mace's console. Mace couldn't quite keep from wincing when shatterpoints multiplied in the air around the small figure, and Feemor raised a pointed eyebrow at him, then sighed. _"Tyranus is Master Yan's sith name,"_ he said quietly.

"Sith?" demanded a voice from behind Mace.

Feemor stiffened, his eyes going wide and a little haunted, Mace saw before he turned to find that Fett had come aboard the ship and was leaning against the opened doorway of the cockpit, his eyes narrowed. Mace was a little ashamed that he hadn't noticed the Mandalorian following him.

_" Dar'jetii, in the most literal sense of the word,"_ Feemor said from the console, a very faint shake in his voice. _"Jango Fett, I presume,"_ he added as Mace turned back to his image, trying not to tense at the thought of having Fett at his back.

"Yes," Mace agreed.

And then Fett was stepping up next to him, into the visual pickup, and Feemor's eyes shot to him, considering, _calculating_. "Tyranus is a dar'jetii?" Fett demanded. "He called himself a jetii. A _jedi_ ," he added, sliding a glance at Mace.

_"It's possible he was, at the time,"_ Feemor said, ignoring the byplay. _"He only left the Order a few weeks ago. Although..."_ He rubbed at his chin, gaze going distant, looking into the space between Mace and Fett.

"If he was willing to delete information from the Archive when he left, he must have already Fallen," Mace said grimly; that had certainly been the consensus the Council had reached, between Master Nu's report about the attempted deletion of planetary systems from the Archives and Yoda passing on the message from Feemor that Dooku had Fallen the last time. As much as the Council hadn't wanted to believe such of a respected master, the evidence—and their trust in the validity of the future Feemor had suffered through—was damning.

_"He didn't **feel** Fallen,"_ Feemor said, but he sounded tired, his shoulders slumped.

Mace sighed, feeling what was likely a very similar exhaustion weighing on his own shoulders. "If Dooku was the one to pick Fett, that makes far more sense," he admitted.

" _Why_?" Fett demanded, suspicious, his gaze flicking between Mace and Feemor's hologram.

Mace glanced at Feemor, uncertain how to answer that, if it was even _wise_ to answer that, but Feemor was watching Fett, gaze sharp. _"Why?"_ the elder jedi asked, voice quiet and low. _"Because he was at Galidraan, too. He led the jedi forces."_

"Feemor," Mace cautioned.

Fett had gone stiff, rage bubbling around him in the Force, and he snarled out a string of Mando'a, words Mace didn't doubt were curses.

Feemor flicked a quick look at Mace, one that said, 'Trust me', and then said something in Mando'a, the words sounding far more careful, less fluid than when Fett spoke.

Whatever he said, it shut Fett up. He still felt angry in the Force, but cautious, too, hesitant.

_"Who do you hate more, Jango Fett?"_ Feemor asked quietly. _"The man who led the slaughter against your people—misguided or no—or the people he's actively working to betray?"_

Fett's eyes cut to Mace, something in them Mace couldn't quite read, anger still too thick in the air around him, clashing with blooming shatterpoints as they stumbled into a turning point.

"The enemy of my enemy?" Fett asked, just a hint of bitterness in his voice.

_"If you like,"_ Feemor agreed, careless. _"Or you could think of it as picking between a man who would enslave millions of you and force them to fight for a cause that isn't theirs, and the people who will give their all to keep the Vode safe, up to and including our own lives."_

Fett was still staring at Mace, and Mace stared back, fought to keep the steadily growing pain of his headache off his face. He didn't know what the Mandalorian was looking for, but when he raised his chin and turned back to Feemor, shatterpoints winking out around them as he made his choice, Mace had the feeling that he'd found it.

"He means the army to kill you," Fett said, flat and cold, and Mace looked back at Feemor just in time to see him flinch, something haunted crossing his face. "To track down and blast every last jetii until there's none left."

Feemor's eyes went wide, horrified. _"The **screaming** ,"_ he breathed out.

_"The Force, it **screamed** , Masters. Not like a **warning** , but like it was in **pain** ,"_ Feemor had said, back on Naboo, and Mace felt a chill going down his spine, the same as it had back then.

_"Master?"_ Wangui's voice called. _"Master!"_ And then she was in view of the visual pickup, reaching out and grabbing Feemor's shoulder before Mace could think he should probably stop her.

Feemor flinched away and twisted to face her, tears dripping down his cheeks as his sudden movement upset them. He stopped halfway to reaching for his lightsabre, staring at his padawan, whose own eyes had gone wide and afraid, hands jerked away and held up as though in surrender.

"Feemor," Mace called, keeping his voice firm, steady through a force of will. "Do you know where you are?"

Feemor swallowed, the knob of his throat bobbing with the motion. _"Temple,"_ he breathed. _"Wangui, I, I'm sorry, I don't–"_ He turned back to the comm, gaze flicking over Mace before landing on Fett, and then he flinched back, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to curse in at least three different languages, from what Mace could recognise.

Wangui turned wide, scared eyes to Mace, even as Fett stepped back, out of range of the visual pickup. _"Master Windu?"_ she whispered.

_Force_ , Mace wished he or another Councillor was there to run interference. Instead, he was days' travel away and most of the Councillors were probably abed, leaving Feemor with only his young padawan, who clearly had no idea what was going on, why her master was shattering in front of her because of a comm call.

"Padawan Wangui," Mace said in his sternest voice, and she straightened, turning to him with a flicker of relief passing over her face, "I am going to hang up in a moment, and you are _immediately_ to comm the Halls and have someone come with a sedative."

_"I don't need a karking **sedative**!"_ Feemor snapped.

_"Master, you haven't slept since Ace and Vega left on mission almost a week ago,"_ Wangui said, just a little hesitantly.

Feemor's insomnia was one of the worst-kept secrets of the Jedi Temple, so Mace couldn't say he was particularly surprised by that. It was also the entire reason sedation and sleep had been the first solution to come to mind.

Feemor opened his mouth, only to shut it as the sound of a door opening came through the audio, followed by Kenobi's voice calling, _"Feemor? Wangui, is he okay?"_

Wangui shook her head, even as Feemor insisted, _"I am **fine**."_

_"Master Windu said to ask the healers to sedate him,"_ Wangui reported.

Kenobi snorted. _"Right."_ A personal comm entered the visual pickup, and Wangui caught it with a surprised look. _"You go call them."_

_"I do not–"_ Feemor started as Wangui made her escape.

Kenobi entered the visual pickup, dressed in a sleep tunic that looked a little rumpled, like he'd been in bed before he'd appeared in Feemor and Wangui's flat. _"Pretty sure you have to listen when the Head of the Order tells you to take a nap, big brother,"_ he said drily, before turning to Mace and giving a short bow. _"Master Windu, was there anything else you needed with Feemor, or can whatever it is at least wait for morning?"_ he asked, while Feemor muttered something unhappily under his breath, then sighed and drooped against Kenobi's side.

Kenobi looked surprised for a brief moment, then wrapped a tentative arm around Feemor's shoulders.

"I believe we were done," Mace said. "I trust you have things in hand, Knight Kenobi?"

Kenobi swallowed and cleared his throat. _"Ah, yes."_ His arm tightened around Feemor's shoulders. _"Wangui and I will make sure he gets some sleep, Master."_

"And then get some yourself, Kenobi," Mace ordered, voice dry, because the new knight was _also_ a little too well known for wandering the Temple at all hours.

Kenobi winced. _"Yes, Master Windu,"_ he agreed. _"May the Force be with you."_

"And with all of you," Mace returned, and reached out to end the communication at the same time as Kenobi.

Fett was gone when Mace turned to look for him, and he sighed, rubbed at his aching forehead, and decided to take his own advice and get some damn sleep.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  _Mand'alor_ — title given to the leader of Mandalore; literally 'sole ruler'  
>  _Jetii_ — Jedi  
>  _Vode_ — siblings  
>  _Chakaar_ — scumbag, petty criminal; literally 'grave robber'  
>  _Dar'jetii_ — Sith; literally 'no longer a Jedi'


	3. Oh But I'm Starting to Believe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying very hard to avoid any ships in this series ~~save for Kei/everyone, but that's mostly one-sided and just his personality~~ , because the entire point was focussing on lineage feels and making everything better for everyone ~~except Palpafucker, because fuck his wrinkly face anyway; how long do I have to wait before I have Feemor 'accidentally' defenestrate him?~~ , but I admit that I also stumbled across a few Jango/Mace fics partway through last chapter and it was an honest struggle to resist the urge to just shove their faces together. (Look, friends, I am an unapologetic shipper to my core, and this fandom is just _rife_ with dumb boys who could stand for a bit of buggering.)  
> So, you know, if you're seeing shippy moments, it's not _intentional_ , but *fist bump because we're clearly in the same boat*
> 
> Uhm, I rushed writing this chapter, a bit, because I wanted the fic done in time to give it a reread before starting to post for Mace Appreciation Day. Hopefully I've caught any glaring errors, but if you see something that's made you go 'what the fuck's Bats trying to say here?' please do point it out and I'll fix it the next time I'm at my comp. ~~So long as, you know, you're not a dick about it.~~
> 
> Mando'a, once again, has both hover text and translations in the end note.

The first seven Vode were decanted the second afternoon following Mace's conversation with Feemor and Fett. He hadn't seen the Mandalorian since that night, and wasn't particularly surprised, though he was a little concerned Fett might do something foolish, like contact Dooku.

(Fett was an adult, Mace reminded himself, and released his uncertainty to the Force. If Dooku took it upon himself to come to Kamino and scrap the project, Mace was nearly certain he could take him.)

Fett was already in the lab when Mace arrived, having been collected by Taun We. Fett was standing back from the tubes and milling scientists, looking bored and flipping a vibroknife between his hands, casual. "Jetii," Fett said when he saw him, perfectly neutral, no sign of the hostility Mace had almost been used to.

Mace raised an eyebrow at him, then returned, "Fett," in an equally neutral tone as he stopped to stand next to him. He'd almost called him 'Mand'alor' again, since that _was_ Fett's title, but given how the Mandalorian kept flinching away from it, and the lack of hostility aimed at him, Mace had opted to let that little mystery go. For the moment.

"It really is quite a shock," Orun Wa said, to another scientist, speaking in Basic despite the amount of Kaminoan Mace had been hearing when he'd first walked in. "It should have died, given how long that malfunction in its tube had gone unnoticed, but it's a strong one."

Mace glanced towards the seven tubes, which were all pulsing with a gentle light; he could only assume that was the warning that they were about to be...born? Decanted? The one who had nearly died, before Mace warned Orun Wa, was as obvious to him, now, as he'd been when Mace had paid a visit the day before, the Force humming excitedly around him. "Of course he survived," Mace said without really thinking about it, "he's Force-sensitive."

There was absolute _silence_ in the room for a moment, finally broken by Fett saying, "I'm sorry, he's _what_?"

Mace turned and raised an eyebrow at the scowling Mandalorian. "He's Force-sensitive. More than strong enough to be trained as a jedi."

"No," Fett snarled. "You are _not_ taking–"

"Okay," Mace said, because Fett _did_ have the right to decide if he wanted any of the Vode being trained as jedi. And he wasn't particularly surprised the man would be so against the idea; the small number of Mandalorian jedi wasn't because they didn't turn up as many Force-sensitives, but because they, as a culture, were less comfortable with giving their young to the Order.

Fett watched him, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

One of the scientists let out an interested noise. "A jedi clone," they said. "That could–"

"Fett said no," Mace interrupted flatly.

"But the _experiments_ we could run," one of the Kaminoans said, something almost manic about them.

"Fett said _no_ ," Mace repeated, sharper than before. "And there will be _no experimenting on children_."

"I wasn't–"

One of the other Kaminoans hissed at the manic one, shutting them up.

And then, before any more could be said, one of the tubes let out a musical chime and the fluid inside began to drain.

The infants were collected from their tubes and handed off to waiting droids with easy efficiency. The droids scanned them, reported on their health, now they were in the open air—all of them were doing well—and then moved to take them to the nursery Mace had stumbled over during his wanderings a couple of days before.

Fett followed the fourth droid—the one holding the Force-sensitive Vode—from the room, scowling, while Mace remained to watch the last of the infants be removed from their tubes, scanned, reported on, and carted out. The scientists started to confer in their own language as the last droid left the lab, and Mace took that as his sign to follow it from the room.

He found Fett in the nursery, staring down at one of the infants with an almost baffled look on his face. Most of the droids had left, only one going into a low power state in the corner of the room, clearly on standby in case something happened.

Mace made a mental note to add a crèchemaster to the jedi remaining on Kamino, because he didn't like the idea of droids being the only caregivers for the Vode. Most younglings, especially those of warm-blooded species, got along much better if they were held by other warm-blooded beings when they were young.

Which, at that thought, Mace drew on experience gained through years of crèche duty and easily picked up one of the tiny forms, which fussed for a moment before turning towards his chest, seeking the point of greatest warmth. "Hello, little one," Mace murmured, running a gentle finger over the infant's soft skull.

"What, you don't want to hold the _Force-sensitive_ one?" Fett snarled, tense, and Mace recognised that the man was standing over that one's nursery crib.

"I intend to hold _all_ of them," Mace replied drily, uncertain of the reason for the current hostility; he'd thought he'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't going to be stealing the youngling out from under Fett's nose.

Fett glared at him for a long moment, while Mace went back to paying attention to the infant, before finally leaning over the nursery crib and uncertainly picking up the Force-sensitive Vode.

Mace managed about a minute of watching Fett trying to mimic him before he set his little one back in his crib and walked over to the Mandalorian. "This is painful to watch," he said drily, and Fett snarled at him. " _Fett_ ," Mace said, tiredly, "I'm not going to take him from you, I just want to show you how to hold him."

"Fine," Fett bit out, and held tensely still as Mace firmly rearranged his hold on the infant.

"Now, _relax_ ," Mace ordered as he moved away to pick up another of the infants.

Fett turned away from him, but he did relax his shoulders, just a bit, and the infant's distress eased in the Force.

Mace was holding his fourth infant, and Fett was much more relaxed, smiling ever so slightly down at the Force-sensitive infant he was still holding, when Mace commented, "They need names." Because they had numbers—N-5 through N-7 and N-9 through N-12—but that made Mace so unbelievably uncomfortable. There were species where it was common to name children things that meant 'third born' or 'first son', but something about the way the Kaminoans had named the Vode felt more like the serial designations given to droids. Like they weren't real people, were _expendable_.

Fett didn't say anything for a long, long moment, just stared down at the infant in his arms, before he said, "Jaster," in a voice that was rough, grief and disgust pulsing around him in the Force.

The infant, Jaster, let out a disquieted noise and squirmed a bit.

"No? Bad name?" Fett guessed, mouth twisting with a bitter smile.

Mace stepped closer and touched a gentle hand to Fett's arm, not surprised when the other man wrenched away. "He's Force-sensitive, Fett," he chided quietly. "You're broadcasting your emotions."

Fett's emotions almost immediately dampened, like he'd thrown a shroud over them, and Jaster settled, drifting back into an easy sleep. "Is this why you jetii are so afraid to have emotions?" Fett bit out, glaring at him.

Mace blinked. "We're not afraid of our emotions," he said and, when Fett scoffed, he sighed, debated the pros and cons of having this debate with someone so clearly determined to think only the worst of them, before looking down at little Jaster and knowing that he was going to need to _try_ ; Fett needed to know what he would be getting into, raising a Force-sensitive.

"In a battle," Mace said quietly, mindful of the sleeping infants around them, "do you give yourself to your emotions? Let it guide your weapon, blind you to the faces of those around you?"

Fett frowned and shook his head. "That's how you kriff up and kill innocents," he said, tacking on a pointed look.

Mace raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I think your people would have been insulted to be called 'innocents'."

Fett snarled at him and paced two steps away, curling ever so slightly around Jaster. But he didn't argue, notably.

"The Force is a great energy," Mace continued, once he was certain Fett wouldn't attempt to throttle him for daring to speak. "One that is everywhere, all the time. The ability to tap into it is a gift, but it is also a danger, because each being can only harness so much of the Force at any time. If you overextend, you can die."

"So don't overextend," Fett said, voice flat. "Di'kute."

"Simple enough, if you know your limits and aren't letting your emotions direct your actions," Mace said, voice bone-dry. "But if you're overjoyed or frustrated or angry, you might not realise you're pushing past your limits."

Fett's jaw clenched and he curled around Jaster again, like he intended to protect the infant from the Force.

"That's less of a concern for the untrained," Mace offered, because he didn't want Fett to feel obligated to hand Jaster over for his own safety, not when it was clearly something he _didn't want_. "In my experience, their use of the Force is so low-level as to be negligible, for the most part, and are only truly in danger of overextending if they're in a desperate situation, something they likely wouldn't survive without the use of the Force."

Fett cast him a suspicious look, but he stopped holding Jaster quite so protectively. "Aren't you supposed to be convincing me to hand him over?" he demanded, and then let out a sharp, bitter laugh that had Jaster letting out another upset noise. "Kriff, jetii, one of yours _paid_ for these clones! Why not just take this one as your due?"

"We're not kidnappers," Mace said, voice gone flat and cold. "The _only_ time we take a child without their guardians' consent is when there _are_ no guardians, or when leaving them where they are will put them in danger, as with someone abusive. You said _no_ , and we will _respect that_."

Fett was silent as Mace set his current infant back in his nursery crib and picked up a new one; he truly _did_ intend to hold all of them, though he doubted he would be allowed near Jaster any time in the near future. Which was _fine_ , even if a part of him chaffed at not being able to hold the infant whose life he'd saved.

(No, that emotion was useless—if keeping Jaster away from him made Fett feel more secure, less combative, then that was the necessary path; Mace did not _need_ to hold the infant—and he passed it on to the Force's keeping.)

"Where were you, during Galidraan?" Fett asked, completely unexpected.

Although, truly, Mace probably should have expected the question to come up. "I had just joined the Council," he admitted, bowing his head. "I was on Coruscant, accepting and passing on the lies that got your people killed."

Fett didn't respond, kept his face turned away from Mace and his emotions carefully shuttered.

Mace finished holding the last of the infants in that silence, then bowed and took his leave; it was clear he wasn't welcome to remain in the nursery.

BREAK

Mace was honestly surprised to find Fett waiting for him that evening, after his Council meeting. "Do you drink, jetii?" he asked, before Mace could decide how best to greet him.

"Yes?"

"Good." Fett turned away and started stalking off down the hallway.

He'd nearly got around the curve and out of sight before he apparently realised that Mace was blinking after him, uncertain how to react, and he spun on the spot and ordered, "That means you _follow_ , di'kutla jetii."

Well, he doubted Fett would kill him when there would be no doubt who the culprit was, and it had been a tragically long while since he'd had a drink, despite quite a few days on this mission when he'd wished for some, so he sighed a bit to himself and followed after Fett.

Fett led him to his own flat, waving Mace in after he'd opened the door, and Mace walked through to the little sitting room area, which looked depressingly like his own, though with more armour and weapons stacked in careful piles to the side of a table and in one chair.

Mace took the open chair, leaving the hard sofa for Fett, who had collected two glasses and an expensive-looking bottle of Corellian whiskey. The bottle and glasses were set on the table, then Fett sat, motioning for Mace to do the honours of pouring.

It was, in fact, an expensive brand of Corellian whiskey, and Mace gave himself a moment to enjoy it, before sighing and turning his attention on Fett. "You wanted to talk?" he asked.

Fett was considering him, his own glass untouched on the table. "Yes," he said after Mace had taken another drink of the whiskey. "Tyranus. Dooku. I've seen him before, but I did not recognise him. Why?"

Mace frowned and shook his head. "There are ways to use the Force to cloud perceptions, and there may be some dark techniques that let you see only what the user wishes you to see."

"Dark," Fett repeated flatly, eyes narrowed.

"Yes. Yan Dooku, so far as we're aware, has already or is in the process of Falling to the dark side of the Force. The sith."

Fett shook his head. "Falling, dark side, sith. These are all concepts that do not translate in the way I think you mean them to, jetii."

Mace considered that for a moment, staring down into his glass. It was true that he was far more used to speaking with other jedi, those who would _know_ the meanings, or those who dealt so often with jedi, they either created their own definitions, or asked someone who was more welcoming than Mace, himself.

Except, there _was_ no one else, not here. Feemor had tried, with 'sith', but... "What was it Feemor called the sith? Der'jetii?"

"Dar'jetii," Fett corrected with unexpected patience. "It literally means 'no longer a jedi'."

So, accurate for Dooku, but perhaps not for his master. He wished, for a moment, for Feemor, who clearly knew enough about Fett—or, at least, the Vode—and Mandalorian culture to get his point across. "Do you have... Is there some sort of, of monster under the bed, in Mandalorian culture?"

Fett narrowed his eyes. "Demagol," he said. "He was a scientist who experimented on children."

Mace grimaced. "The sith are the Demagol of the jedi," he explained. "They use the dark side of the Force—the parts that are powered by emotions like greed and rage—to terrorise and kill any who do not bow to them. Children, innocents, it doesn't matter to them, so long as they are feared and unthreatened."

Fett was watching him with dark, intelligent eyes. "And this is what Tyranus is?"

"This is what we believe he is on his way to becoming," Mace corrected, then shook his head and finished his glass in one gulp. "Nearly a thousand years ago, the Republic was built after a great war between the sith and the rest of the galaxy."

"Yes, this is basic history."

Mace shook his head. "The jedi believed the sith were gone, that we'd wiped them out. A month ago, we found out we hadn't, when Feemor and two other jedi faced and killed one on Naboo."

Fett frowned and finally picked up his glass, taking a sip. "Your demagolka, your 'monster under the bed', it has returned to life."

"Yes. And where there is one, there is always another: a master and an apprentice. The apprentice was the one killed, so the master will be looking for a new apprentice. We believe he has chosen Dooku."

"But you do not _know_."

"No."

Fett nodded, took another sip of his whiskey, then set the glass back on the table and asked, "What are your reasons for believing this?"

Mace frowned at him, suspicious of the line of questioning. "I don't believe that's–"

"It has to do with the other jetii, with Feemor's reaction to me," Fett interrupted, staring at Mace without a hint that he might flinch away. "I have _seen_ battle flashbacks; he _knew_ me, knew my voice after only one word through a comm."

Mace pressed his lips together, frowning at the Mandalorian.

Fett smiled, humourless. "I do not understand your Force, but everyone knows it allows impossible things. Things like seeing a future where Tyranus becomes your demagolka, and the jetiise fight a war with these clones of me, these _Vode_. Things like a betrayal of trust."

They stared at each other for a long, stretching sort of silence, waiting for the other to break, to give ground.

Finally, Mace sighed, motioning for the bottle of whiskey to pour more into his glass. "What if that is possible?"

Fett watched the bottle move on its own with narrowed eyes until it had settled back on the table and Mace had picked up his glass again. "Then I would ask where I am to be in this plotting and betrayal."

"That, I do not know," Mace admitted, because that was hardly something that had come up during any of Feemor's reports to the Council about his future memories.

Fett nodded, looking thoughtful. "To call them Vode, instead of clones, he must have thought well of them," he said, musingly, as he picked his glass up again, then took a sip.

"I believe he did," Mace admitted, thinking back to the way Feemor had struggled to explain how implausible it would have been for the Vode to turn on him the way they had. "He likened them to jedi padawans, in that he cared for them, and they for him."

Fett's jaw clenched and he sat his glass down a little too hard, but he didn't give voice to whatever was on his mind.

Mace finished his second glass then set it gently down on the table and stood. "Thank you for the drink, Fett."

Fett waited until he was nearly to the door, before calling, "Je– Windu."

Mace turned more out of surprise to have heard his _name_ from the Mandalorian.

There was something dangerous in Fett's eyes when he met Mace's curious gaze. "I will not be used again as the pawn in someone else's game, and I will not see my clones—these new and yet unborn children you and yours call Vode—turned into such, either. Until Tyranus'—or Dooku, or whatever name he uses—death, I am the ally of the jetiise. After–" he smiled, sharp and not at all kind "–we will see."

"I understand, and thank you," Mace said, bowing to him.

"You still do not get to train any of my clones to be like you," Fett added, and there was the hostility that had been missing.

"That," Mace replied drily, "I expected." Then he turned and let himself out, turning to his own room and sleep.

BREAK

It took nearly two weeks for Mace's replacements to arrive on Kamino, including the time it took to pick them and sort out excuses for their long absence, and their travel time. The hardest had, of course, been finding a reason for Yaddle—who had been the member of the Council picked to remain on Kamino, at least for the first few years, as her smaller stature and good humour was believed to be of benefit when around so many younglings—to be absent for an extended period. Oppo had been the one to suggest they elect a temporary Councillor to take her place, telling those who didn't need to know where she'd gone, that she had retired from the Council. Which, having already spent plenty of time trying to attend meetings from a distance, Mace had been quick to agree to.

Despite having been the one to say she wanted Qui-Gon to replace her, Yaddle had been the one to suggest that Feemor take her position, adding, "Convince him to take a permanent seat, we will not, but take it for the sake of appearances, I believe he will."

Mace, unfortunately, had missed the meeting where they'd convinced Feemor to take Yaddle's seat, but Eeth promised there was a recording of it waiting for him, and Yoda had supposedly got holos of Qui-Gon's reaction, having initially brought up the idea that either he or Feemor should take the temporary spot during a lineage dinner, which had apparently started to become a bi-weekly event. (Based on the reports of recent pranks Mace had been reading through as they came in, he suspected Yoda was giving his lineage _ideas_ and setting them loose on the Temple population for his own amusement. At least Skywalker and his band of miscreants had mostly stopped their war on the Council while he was gone, instead turning their focus to instructors and a few of the more old-fashioned masters.)

Mace had _not_ , however, missed comming Feemor, as directed by Yoda, because Feemor had needed to make sure Mace was _actually okay_ with him taking a Council seat.

_"I just...don't want to be more of a headache than I already am,"_ Feemor had added, before Mace could assure him that, yes, he'd agreed to his appointment.

Mace had sighed and rubbed at his forehead (there was no visual, because Feemor was still being _so careful_ ), because the Council meeting before he'd comm'd Feemor had been...tiring. "Feemor," Mace had said, "how is it, exactly, that you were trained by Qui-Gon Jinn?"

Feemor's laughter had been startled and delighted in equal measure. _"Master Windu–"_

"You may as well use my first name, Councillor," Mace had interrupted drily.

There was a moment of silence, then Feemor had said, _"That is only mildly disconcerting, thank you."_

"You're welcome."

Feemor had huffed out a sound that might be called a laugh, then said, _"Mace, then, you have to understand, that I know **exactly** how much of a sodding pain in the rear Qui-Gon can be. Obi-Wan and I both, I believe, are attempting to avoid following his lead. In that regard, at least."_

Mace had hummed, more amused than anything else that both of Qui-Gon's former padawans had decided to avoid being a pain in the Council's collective rear simply because of how often they'd watched Qui-Gon annoying them.

_"That said,"_ Feemor had added in a musing tone, _"I do believe Qui-Gon has got far worse since Xanatos."_

That would figure.

"I did approve your appointment," Mace had said, moving them back to the original topic. "I appreciate your attempts to mitigate your circumstances' effects on my health," he'd added a bit drily, "but there will be times we'll cross paths, despite your best intentions, especially as you're serving as our chancellor's advisor; this is something we will simply have to resign ourselves to."

Feemor had sighed. _"Yes, I'm aware. And I can only assume that, as time passes, the changes my foreknowledge can affect will lessen and, with that, the number of shatterpoints circling me."_

"One can only assume," Mace had agreed. And then, thinking of a relatively recent mass of shatterpoints he really should warn the other master about, he had said, "Fett is aware of your circumstances, to a certain degree."

_"How the kark–?"_ Feemor had started, before stopping and letting out a long, almost helpless sigh. _"It was how I reacted to him."_

"Yes," Mace had agreed.

Feemor had sighed again, was quiet for just about long enough that Mace had started to wonder if he'd been pulled away from the comm, then he'd said, _"You're not concerned,"_ in a thoughtful, almost calculating tone.

"No. For the moment, at least, we are the lesser of the evils he's trapped between; he says he's our ally, at least until Dooku is dead."

Feemor had hummed. _"His word is his bond,"_ he'd said, almost musingly. _"Well, we can hardly complain about having him on our side; the Vode will be trained to assist us, either way, but I had heard whispers that those of the first batches, the ones Fett spent the most time with, were...less than impressed with the jedi they served beside."_

"I doubt that will change," Mace had said, wry. "He's also made it quite clear that we're not allowed to train any Force-sensitive Vode."

_"I'm sorry,"_ Feemor had said, voice strangled. _"Did you just imply there's a Force-sensitive Vod?"_

"Vod?" Mace had repeated, thrown by the alternate word.

_"Ah. Singular form."_

Mace had nodded to himself, then said, "Yes. One of the initial...batch? Of Vode is Force-sensitive." He frowned a bit, thinking of the way Jaster was constantly fussy, something just slightly _off_ about him in the Force. "Feemor, you know far more about the Vode than any of the rest of us," he had said, without really thinking about it.

_"Well, I hadn't known there were ever any Force-sensitives among them,"_ Feemor had replied, dry.

Mace had quirked a faint smile, just for a moment, then said, "Jaster is...off. Twitchy, sometimes clingy, sometimes refusing to be held. It's not colic," he'd added, because that had been his first thought.

Feemor had hummed, thoughtful. _"I'm afraid I know very little about the Vode's childhoods, especially their infancy, but I know that, as adults, they would often sleep in piles for comfort."_

Oh. That was...

Mace had cleared his throat, in turns warmed at so humanising an anecdote, and vaguely disturbed at the mental image of multiple Fetts all piled atop one another. "They sleep separate, right now," he had said. "I'll have a discussion with the nurse-droid, see about letting them sleep all together; hopefully that will be enough to soothe him."

_"I hope so,"_ Feemor had agreed quietly and with feeling; the Vode may have been forced to betray him, and it seemed clear that their—and Fett's—appearance wasn't doing his trauma any favours, but it was so very obvious that Feemor still cared deeply for them.

Not that Mace could blame him; he'd barely known the Vode for a day before he'd started developing an attachment to them. (It had been the same with Depa; something about holding helpless younglings completely ruined his jedi master's composure.)

They had signed off, after that, and Mace had passed on the suggestion to let the Vode sleep together in the morning. Fett had looked intrigued at the idea, and been quick to back Mace up when the nurse-droid had quibbled over whether or not such would be allowed.

With both the jedi in residence, and the source of the Vode's DNA, arguing to let the infants share sleep space, the Kaminoans had given in and had a new, larger bed fabricated that would fit all seven.

Jaster's mood did seem to improve a bit, after that, to Mace's relief, but there were still days when he shied away from being touched, or clung to Fett when the man held him. (Mace still wasn't allowed to hold the Force-sensitive Vod. Which he was trying very hard _not_ to be sore about; just because he understood why Fett was so suspicious, didn't mean he wasn't bothered by the continued lack of trust.)

Mace had his things packed and on his ship before Yaddle comm'd to say they were in system and had received permission to land on a platform not far from Mace's own ship. He met Taun We by the doors to the landing pad, and they waited in a comfortable silence for the other jedi to make the dash through the rain to the structure.

Knight and crèchemaster Palmina Fleodseen was the first through the door, her hood thrown back and face lit with delight under her soaked black hair. She was followed by Master Healer Emmyorphag Kanev, the Bothan looking especially miserable, given his hood didn't completely cover his furry snout. Yaddle brought up the rear, the delighted light in her green eyes telling Mace that she, like Palmina, had enjoyed the run through the pouring rain.

He did have to wonder how long the charm would last for the pair of them.

All four jedi bowed to one another, and Mace introduced the newcomers to Taun We.

"Prime Minister Lama Su would like to greet all of you himself," Taun We told them, inclining her head, "but was called away to manage another matter on the far end of the city. He requests that you join him for the evening meal, instead."

"Do that we can," Yaddle agreed, then looked up at Mace. "Leaving immediately, are you?"

"I'm afraid so," Mace agreed. "I believe I've been away from Coruscant long enough."

"True, this is," Yaddle admitted. "Felt, your absence has been."

"At least you seem to have avoided the worst of Initiate Skywalker's pranks," Fleodseen pointed out cheerfully.

"So I've heard," Mace agreed drily, and both Fleodseen and Kanev let out noises of amusement, likely at the idea that Skywalker's pranking of Councillors had been so notable that they'd been shared with Mace while he was on the other side of the galaxy. "Taun We is an excellent guide, so I leave it to her to show you around," he added, before narrowing his eyes at the two non-Councillors. "I don't think I need to remind you that you're here on behalf of the Order, and expected to comport yourselves in an acceptable manner?"

"No, Master Windu," they agreed, bowing.

He inclined his head, then said, to all three of them, "May the Force be with you."

They returned the sentiment, Yaddle adding a grim nod of acknowledgement—they were all very much in need of the Force's blessing, given the absolute mess this could turn into if the existence of the Vode were revealed to the Republic in the wrong manner, or if the Kaminoans suddenly decided to renege on their deal with Sifo-Dyas, in favour of dealing exclusively with Dooku, given he was the only one surviving, of their original clients—and Mace took his leave of them, making his way to his own ship.

Somehow, it was a surprise to find the area outside his own landing platform empty, and Mace frowned at himself, even as he admitted that a part of him had hoped that Fett—who he wouldn't call anything like a friend, but who had become enough of a constant over the past two weeks, that his absence was definitely felt—would have come to see him off. It wasn't like the Mandalorian didn't know he was leaving; Mace had told him his expected departure date as soon as Yaddle had comm'd him to let him know they were leaving Coruscant.

Sighing to himself and passing the regret at missed chances to the Force, Mace pulled his hood up over his head and hurried out into the rain.

His ship was open, which it hadn't been when he'd left his things in there that morning, and Mace was reaching for his lightsabre even as he cast out in the Force to discover the reason. When he sensed them, Fett and Jaster, he left his lightsabre where it was, but he was frowning as he stepped onto the ramp and up into the ship. "Fett?" he called ahead.

Fett stepped into the doorway of the cargo area, Jaster in his arms. His emotions were muffled in the Force, as he'd taken to doing any time he was near the Force-sensitive infant, but his rage was still obvious in the twisted curl of his mouth and the flare of his eyes. "They've been _experimenting_ on him," he snarled, arms tightening around Jaster.

Mace had to close his eyes and stand perfectly still for a moment, breathing in the anger and horror that washed through him, accepting that they were his own emotions and completely deserved, and then breathing them out into the Force. "Damn," he whispered.

Fett spat something in Mando'a—Mace recognised 'demagolka'; Fett hadn't used 'dar'jetii' for the sith since their talk—and Mace suspected he was cursing out the Kaminoans (or saying he'd like to murder them all).

"What are you going to do?" Mace asked. "You're still held by your contract with them, at least until Boba is born."

(It had taken almost a week, after their conversation over whiskey, before Fett had led Mace to the tank holding the one Vode growing at a normal rate and said, "This is Boba. He's mine, my heir." There had been pride in the words, and a warmth about him that Fett always seemed to hesitate to loose around Jaster. And Mace had, in that moment, understood just a little more about the Mandalorian, about why he always clung so to the Force-sensitive infant, but refused to love him; he knew he'd eventually have to give Jaster to the jedi, as a part of the army Sifo-Dyas had ordered for them. _It will be easier on Fett and the jedi remaining on Kamino,_ Mace had thought, _once Boba is born, and Fett has an infant he won't have to give up._ )

Fett drew in an angry breath, cut his gaze past Mace, down the ramp, like he was watching for someone to have followed Mace, then stepped rapidly across the hold and thrust Jaster at Mace. "Take him," he snapped.

Mace accepted the infant without needing to think about it, the act of holding him familiar, after two weeks holding the other six Vode. "I don't understand," he admitted, as Jaster fussed, apparently uncomfortable in the arms of anyone other than Fett.

Mace wrapped his Force presence around Jaster, soothing his fears and the aches he could sense, now he knew to look for them, and he had to breathe another wash of anger out into the Force, because _how dare they_.

"He's not safe," Fett said, biting, angry. And then, with an edge of helplessness, he added, "I can't protect him. But _you_ , Windu, you can get him out, get him _away_. Train him to be a jetii."

Mace shook his head. "You don't _want_ him trained as a jedi," he pointed out.

Fett narrowed his eyes. "I would rather him a jetii than their _experiment_ ," he snarled.

Mace closed his eyes and made himself breathe, torn. He _wanted_ to take Jaster back to the Temple, to give him to the crèche and watch him grow up into the first Mandalorian jedi in generations. But Fett _didn't want that life for him_ , was only insisting on it now because it wasn't safe for Jaster on Kamino.

"You won't take him?" Fett demanded.

"Of _course_ I'll take him," Mace snapped, couldn't have stopped himself from tightening his arms around the infant he held if he'd _tried_. "I'm not going to leave him here so they can hurt him more, Fett."

Fett eased back a little, though he was clearly still angry. "Then why the hesitation?"

"You _know_ why," Mace insisted. "You said no, and I know you would still be saying no if you thought you had any other choice–"

"There _isn't_ another choice!" Fett snapped.

Mace shook his head. "There are plenty of other choices," he insisted, and when Fett turned a flat, unimpressed look on him, he explained, "He can go to an orphanage, on Coruscant or another world. Mandalore, perhaps; a couple of our jedi are friends with the Duchess, and I'm sure they could convince her to take him in."

Fett looked surprised for a moment, then shook his head, expression darkening. "And have him be raised by that soft woman with her _peace_?" he muttered, clearly disgusted. "That is _worse_ than becoming a jetii."

Well, then.

"Then another world. Coruscant, Alderaan, Corellia–"

"And then?" Fett interrupted. "He grows at twice the rate of a normal human; he'll be _noticed_ , be of interest to someone else who would hurt him for his oddities."

"Ah." That was...certainly a danger, and given their current predicament, Mace could understand why Fett would immediately jump on that fear.

"And when the others, his vode, are introduced to the Republic?" Fett continued, evidently determined to ensure his point was _made_. "He will see he looks exactly like them, as will others around him. He will be recognised as a clone, and your Republic's hatred of what he is will only hurt him."

"We're working on that," Mace insisted, because they _were_. Adi had formed up and set her group of chosen consulars to the task of changing laws, with both her and Feemor adding their not inconsiderable voices—both members of the Jedi Council, and one a trusted advisor to the former chancellor, while the other was advisor to their current chancellor—to help nudge along senators who might waffle. It wouldn't solve everything—prejudice had a long memory—but at least, when the Vode were introduced to the Republic, the fight for their rights would have already been won. (Even if the jedi had to fall back on blackmail to get those laws removed, although the Council agreed that they should attempt a to tackle the laws politely, at first; there was no point in forcing senators to do something they might have been persuaded to do through some friendly conversation.)

Fett just responded with a flat look.

Mace sighed and glanced down at where Jaster had fallen asleep in his arms, lulled by the warmth and security Mace had wrapped around him with the Force.

"Windu," Fett said, and Mace looked back up at him, taking in the anger still burning in his eyes, the unhappy tightness around his eyes and mouth, and the way his arms had dropped to his sides, loose, but somehow still tense. "I don't want him to be a jetii," he admitted, the words bitter, "but I want him safe, happy, more. I know that you will protect him, you and your Order, that he will learn to fight, to protect himself. Maybe..." He hesitated, for just a moment, then continued, "Maybe, one day, he will even protect his vode."

Mace breathed out and nodded. "Then I'll take him back to the Temple," he agreed quietly, out of arguments.

"Good." Fett gave a sharp nod. "There's things for him in the cockpit," he added, before starting around Mace, clearly intending to leave.

"Fett," Mace said, turning to watch the other man stop on the ramp, just shy of the waterfall coming off the side of the ship, although he didn't look back at Mace. "I'll send Master Yaddle and the other two jedi a note, that if they find any other Force-sensitive Vode, they need to do what they can to keep the Kaminoans from finding out. And, if that fails, to get them off-planet at the first opportunity."

Fett spun and stalked back up the ramp, coming to a stop in front of Mace and ordering, "Give me your arm."

Baffled, Mace shifted his hold on Jaster so he could hold out his arm.

Fett grabbed his forearm in a firm grip, saying, "This is how Mando'ade trade greetings."

Mace blinked, still a little uncertain what was going through the Mandalorian's head, but gripped Fett's forearm in return. "Jedi usually bow," he replied.

Fett snorted. "Vor entye, Mace Windu. Ret'urcye mhi," he said, with a note of finality that sounded like a goodbye. And then his eyes fell on Jaster and softened. "Ret'urcye mhi, Jaster," he said, freeing his hand from Mace's grip and brushing his fingers over the infant's head.

As Fett turned to leave, Mace said, "May the Force be with you, Jango Fett."

Fett shot him a smirk over one shoulder. "I'll stick with my blaster," he replied, and then stepped out into the rain.

Mace huffed a quiet laugh and turned to head for the cockpit and take off; he'd figure out where best to let Jaster sleep after he was in hyperspace.

BREAK

His return to the Temple was a relatively quiet affair, with only Depa coming to meet him, her eyes brightening when he introduced her to Jaster, and she went with him to take the infant to the Halls of Healing, where Head Healer Vokara Che was waiting for them, already brought into the circle of jedi aware of the existence of the Vode by the Council while Mace was en route back to Corruscant. Vokara ran through the usual admittance tests, then collected some blood to analyse; the vote to have two healers working on finding a cure for the increased aging had been unanimous, especially with one of the Vode at the Temple. (By all accounts, as soon as she'd heard about that particular bit of molecular manipulation, Vokara had been demanding to be allowed to help find a way to undo it.)

Once their Twi'lek head healer had her DNA sample and had given Jaster a clean bill of health, Mace and Depa took Jaster to the crèche, where he would be remaining in a room for those younglings who couldn't yet walk. ('Escape the nursery of their own power,' Yoda always insisted when a youngling asked why they had to wait until they could walk before they were assigned to a clan proper, 'one must do, before join a clan they may.' Mace had always suspected it was just easier on the crèchemasters to keep those younglings that were mostly content to sleep most of the day, away from the more rambunctious younglings who might disrupt said sleep.)

He wasn't particularly surprised when, later that evening, after a Council meeting, he ended up walking with Feemor to the crèche. "Intending to meet our newest initiate?" he guessed.

Feemor hummed, somehow managing to look more contemplative than tired, despite the bruises under his eyes that spoke to sleepless nights. "Something like that," he agreed drily.

The crèchemaster in charge of the infant dorms, Knight Auss'erctara, shot them a disapproving look, tapping at the chrono on his desk, but didn't stop them from slipping into the room for the youngest members and stepping up next to Jaster's crib.

Jaster's eyes were open when they reached him, and he made a desperate grabbing motion at Mace as he wrapped him in a Force-embrace. Mace obediently picked him up, having already learnt, during the long flight back to Coruscant, that the infant had got spoilt, sleeping with the other Vode every night.

"Jaster," Mace whispered, "this is Feemor. I believe he wants to say hello." And then he held the infant out to the elder master.

Feemor took him in the comfortable manner of someone who was used to time spent in the crèche. "Su'cuy, Jaster Fett," Feemor murmured, smiling ever so slightly.

Mace considered him for a moment, then said, "He's been a bit spoilt, won't go to sleep unless he's being held." He nodded to the rocking chair in one corner of the room, when Feemor glanced up at him.

Feemor quirked a smile. "It was a sensible solution when Fett had no intention in letting him leave Kamino," he pointed out.

Mace shrugged. "It was, and it did seem to help, as much as anything would have."

Feemor's mouth twisted unhappily—Mace had had to explain the real reason behind Fett's change of heart to the rest of the Council, since there was no way any of them would have believed Fett had allowed him to take Jaster, otherwise—but he didn't say anything, just moved over to the rocking chair and sat down. He murmured something too low for Mace to catch, though the inflection sounded like Mando'a—much more familiar, after three weeks of hearing it from Fett, although Feemor's tone, when he spoke it, was far more amiable—and then started to hum an unfamiliar tune.

"What's that?" Mace asked, curious, since it didn't sound like any of the crèche songs he remembered.

Feemor hesitated for a moment, looking a little uncertain, then said, " _Vode An_."

"Mandalorian?" Mace guessed.

Feemor nodded. "It's not really a lullaby," he admitted, "more of a, a battle chant. But it's his and his brothers'. Their culture." His mouth twisted. "Or, it _will be_ , once Fett starts teaching it to them."

"Are there words?" Mace asked, settling on the ground.

Feemor cast him a suspicious look, but nodded, and then quietly began to sing, the Mando'a falling far more comfortably from his lips than when he'd been speaking to Fett. There was a rhythm to the song, and Mace could definitely tell it wasn't meant to be a lullaby. Still, something about it seemed to be soothing to Jaster, who yawned and curled closer to Feemor's chest in the way he did when he was falling asleep.

When Feemor fell silent, Mace started quietly singing his favourite crèche lullaby, and had to resist a smirk when Feemor yawned himself and settled a little more comfortably in the rocking chair.

Mace rescued Jaster once Feemor had fallen asleep—though, based on the hold the older master had, he hadn't been in danger of dropping the infant, even in sleep—and then wrapped the Force around himself, to gently suggest that others look away from him, and picked Feemor up to carry him up to his flat.

"Master Windu?" Wangui asked, startled, when she opened the door. And then she took in her master's peaceful expression, his head resting against Mace's shoulder, and her eyes widened. "How did you get him to sleep?!" she hissed, stepping back to let him in.

Mace smiled to himself and shook his head. "Just an old crèche trick, Padawan."

She cast him a suspicious look, but didn't ask again, instead helping Mace get Feemor into his own bed.

"Good night, Padawan Wangui," Mace offered as he took his leave.

"Good night, Master Windu," she replied with a polite bow. "And, thank you."

Mace inclined his head and took his leave, turning towards his own room to get some sleep in his own bed for the first time in far too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, I couldn't decide whether or not to give the other Null clones their canon names or not, since Jango is the one naming them, not Kal Skirata. I'll decide eventually. (Tbh, Skirata being on Kamino early enough to name all of the Nulls, even the ones that didn't make it, strikes me as a bit odd. Like, how long, exactly, is Skirata banging around the place uselessly, waiting for them to be old enough to start training them. It makes far more sense, to me, that the Cuy'val Dar wouldn't arrive for at least another year or two after the Nulls are decanted. So that's why Jango is the only other non-Kaminoan haunting the labs.)
> 
>  **Translations:**  
>  _Jetii_ — Jedi (singular)  
>  _Mand'alor_ — title given to the leader of Mandalore; literally 'sole ruler'  
>  _Jetiise_ — Jedi (plural)  
>  _Vode_ — siblings  
>  _Vod_ — sibling  
>  _Di'kute_ — idiots, useless individuals  
>  _Di'kutla_ — idiotic, useless  
>  _Demagolka_ — someone who commits atrocities, war criminal; comes from the Mandalorian scientist, Demagol  
>  _Mando'ade_ — people of Mandalore  
>  _Vor entye_ — Thank you; literally 'I accept a debt'  
>  _Ret'urcye Mhi_ — goodbye; literally 'maybe we'll meet again'  
>  _Su'cuy_ — Hello


End file.
